Once Upon A Strip Club
by zerodaysdone
Summary: Jareth works at a strip club as a pole dancer. By a turn of events, Sarah ends up at said club. Hoggle's the bartender. And that's how the story starts. Shenanigans ensue and nothing is serious, let alone accurately researched.
1. Thirteen O'Clock

**1: Thirteen O'Clock**

A strip club wasn't the first place Sarah Williams thought she'd end up in. It also wasn't the last. It was probably somewhere in the middle of the list, slightly below a thrift shop and a tad above a sushi store. All things considered, there's worse places to be when you end up in that part of town.

It had started out with a friend and some friendly chit-chat. Howard 'Hoggle' Smith, a friend from college had stopped by for their bimonthly drinks, and as usual, they started talking about this and that. Whatever it is friends talk about (gardening was a popular choice of conversation).It was tradition not to ask about each other's lives until at least round two, and both of them abided nicely to it. The second that Sarah's empty glass hit the table, Hoggle dropped the question

"So, did you get the role or not?"

Sarah paused to glare across the table at the little man, then shook her head, "No. They said they wanted someone with 'more experience' and a 'different mindset.' You know how it is."

Hoggle snorted and and buried his face in a frilly Pepto-Bismol pink drink, "Idiots, the lot of 'em."

"Oh, lay off, Hoggle. They were quite nice, even called me in to audition for another part."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"What part, then?"

"Oh, nothing major..."

"Come on, share."

"Well, if you must know..."

"I must, yes."

"I'm the stepmother."

"Aren't you a bit too young?"

"Not really. It's that sort of play?"

"That sort of play?"

"I didn't tell you, did I?"

"Tell me what?"

Sarah smiled smugly, "You know Rocky Horror Picture Show?"

"What of it?"

"You know Cinderella?"

"Well, yes?"

"This play is their bastard child, conceived after one too many margaritas at one too many burlesque shows."

Hoggle looked like he could use some brain bleach. Lacking that, his pink monstrosity seemed to do quite nicely.

Sarah laughed, "He's kind of big in the local community."

The man muttered something quiet and vaguely offensive, "So what's your part like, then?"

"One too many plastic surgeries and an overt fondness for young men in speedos and the clubs in which they reside."

Hoggle sighed. "How's your character study coming along?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Frankly, I don't know where to start, and-"

Looking vaguely pained, Hoggle put up a hand to shut her up, "You want my help?"

"Please!"

"I know just the place..."

**xxx**

'Just the place' happened to be a strip club in a very specific part of town where Hoggle just happened to be the bartender. Small world.

"I reserve the right to make terrible jokes about this for a decade," said Sarah, sliding onto a barstool.

Hoggle scowled at her from across the bar, clambering up onto a stepping stool. They made quite the pair. A young woman, dark hair shining under the pulsing lights, eyes sharp, gaze slightly cynical, worn down but not worse for wear at the end of a long week, and a dwarf, features almost cartoonish but no less real than the next person with a matter of fact air and quick, if heavy, hands.

"I do have to give the place points for the theme, though," Sarah continued, fluffing up her long black hair, "'The Glass Bauble'? Vaguely Renaissance themed Venetian Carnival erotica?"

"Yeah, yeah. It sells, so they do it," muttered the dwarf, pulling his apron tight around his waist, "Want me to mix you a drink?"

Sarah nodded.

"Too bad," said Hoggle, "It's all nonalcoholic. I can get a juice instead."

"That would be great."

"Alright," Hoggle clambered off of his stool, "I'll be a bit. Everyone here's nice. In a certain definition of that word... Go socialize. Mingle. Something. Whatever you do, though, don't talk to Jareth. He's an ass."

The young actress gave a mocking salute and settled down to watch the crowd mill around. Most patrons (almost completely women) were crowding around the main stage where the expected was happening. The expected being a bunch of scantly clad men getting even more scantly clad by the second. It took some force of will for Sarah to tear her eyes away from the display, but she eventually succeeded, turning her attention to the women around the stage. How they dressed, how they carried themselves, their age, their attitudes, everything she could gleam with a (ha) naked eye.

And so Sarah spent a nice couple of minutes before someone slid onto the stool next to hers, leaning in a bit too close.

"You're watching the wrong thing, love," that someone said sardonically.

Sarah eyed the man sitting next to her. Sharp cheekbones, bright mismatched eyes, a platinum blond mullet, frilly poet's shirt with cleavage way down low, a pair of very very tight pants, and an accent that spoke of the other side of the pond and Union Jacks.

"Depends what you're here for," she replied, turning back to the crowd.

"Middle aged housewives with depraved sex lives?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows, "If that's your attitude towards your clientele, I can see why you're not up there working."

"Strange. That pick up line usually seems to work," said Mr. Mullet in a vaguely sarcastic monotone.

"Oh, I'm not like most girls," Sarah said in an overly breathy voice, putting a hand to her heart.

"I can see that," smirked the man, "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the Goblin King."

"That's got to be a euphemism for something," muttered Sarah.

"Probably. Now this is the part where you introduce yourself, I say something witty, and you fall in love with me and stuff singles down my pants."

"Hi, Goblin King, my name's Jennifer, and I'd need to break a ten first," said Sarah, giving up on all hopes of crowd watching.

"How cheap," said the Goblin King, sliding his hand onto Sarah's knee, "Might there be anything more likely to make you give me the ten outright?"

The woman thought about it for a moment and settled with tilting her head to the side. "What, is it a slow night for you?"

The Goblin King shrugged, "My slot's not until later, I got here a bit early, and you seemed like an easier customer than what you turned out to be."

The actress let out a snort, "Alright then, amuse me."

The man gave Sarah a slow once over from under hooded eyes, slipped his hand off her leg, and snapped his fingers. The gesture was followed by a complicated flick of his wrist, and the Goblin King proudly presented a crystal ball. Long, white gloved fingers sent the crystal dancing around, bobbing over and around his hand. Gently, he produced another crystal and added it to the first. The patterns grew more and more complex. The glass spheres caught the glare of the club lights, muting the multitude of colors and bouncing them around. Another ball was added, and the spinning and weaving grew hurried and frantic, reflections a blur, one crystal barely distinguishable from another. Until it stopped. Absent of fanfares and pomp, the devilish spirals simply stopped. Finished. Ended.

The Goblin King placed the crystals on the bar with a gentle clunk and turned to grin at Sarah, whose eyes were still locked on his spindly fingers, mouth agape, trying to shake off the remnants of the entrancing performance.

Once she came to, Sarah whipped out her wallet in a businesslike fashion and slapped a ten down on the table in front of the spheres.

"Nice to know at least one man here knows how to handle his balls," she said.

The Goblin King bared his teeth, "Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that joke."

"Well, you haven't heard it from me, so take the compliment."

"That's not fair."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a few moments until the Goblin King started glancing around the room. After a couple of quietly frustrated moments, he turned to Sarah, "Mind telling me what time it is?"

"There's a clock right there," said Sarah, waving at the wall above the bar, "Three whole clocks, actually."

"Fat lot of good they do, just tell me the time."

What a spoiled brat. Sarah glanced down at her watch, "Ten forty five."

The man sighed and slipped to his feet, collecting the balls off the table and hiding them... somewhere, "Pleasure doing business with you, lovely conversation, got to run. Good bye, Jennifer."

"Bye, Goblin King."

"If you stay until eleven, you'll catch my dance."

"Looking forward to it."

"I live to serve."

The stripper gave a mocking salute and made his way to one of the side doors, no doubt leading to the changing room.

Sarah watched him go. Well, mainly she watched his ass go, but that was almost the same thing in this situation. Sighing wistfully, she turned back to the bar and came face to face with Hoggle.

"I told you not to talk with Jareth and here we are," grumbled the dawrf, slamming down a peach-flavored soft drink.

"Can't see why you don't like him," Sarah said, "He has a lovely personality."

"And an even lovelier bod, I'm aware."

"Why Hoggle, I never thought I'd hear you say that word!"

"What, 'lovelier'?"

"No, 'bod.'"

"Well, this place has the tendency to wear off on you."

Sarah hummed in agreement and looked up at the clocks above the bar. The hands on them were gone, and each had thirteen hours.


	2. Magic Dance

**2: Magic Dance**

"How come he got so chummy with you anyways?"

Sarah opened up the peach Snapple that Hoggle had handed her, "Chummy?"

"Oh, come on. He took his balls out!"

Sarah grinned at him over the bottle, "Good one, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," said Hoggle smugly, "It infuriates him too. Bastard almost punched me once. As far as first times, yours was peachy keen"

"Wonderful. What was your first time with him like, Hoggle?" asked Sarah, tilting her head back and squinting at her friend..

"Work-centric," said the dwarf, ignoring the (at that point unoriginal) innuendo, "He's usually pretty terrifying, but I just can't take him seriously in those pants."

"Hear-hear," said Sarah, raising her Snapple in the air.

"Anyways, the first time I met him-" started Hoggle, but was cut off by the loud speaker.

_"And now, ladies, may we present, the Goblin King!"_

"That's a story for later," grinned Hoggle, "Watch that stage. You'll thank me later."

Sarah obliged, mainly out of curiosity. The lights had dimmed, plunging the club into near-darkness. The room fell silent. Softly at first, but getting louder and louder, music started playing. The lights on the stage faded into a warm brightness and a puff of glitter and feathers flew down from the ceiling onto the Goblin King. Sarah couldn't bring herself to call him Jareth, especially in that atmosphere. He stood, stock still, back to the audience, mullet sparkling and shirt billowing slightly.

_ Oh no, oh no..._ wailed a male voice as the man slowly shed his shirt, letting the fabric ripple to the ground to the joyous yelling of the crowd, followed by a pair of leather gloves.

_You'll never make me stay so take your weight off of me  
I know your every move, so won't you please let me be  
I've been here times before but I was too blind to see  
That you seduce every man, this time you won't seduce me._

The Goblin King gave a little twirl towards the audience, letting fly a puff of glitter. Hands down at his sides, he took a few seductive steps forward, maintaining a mocking sort of eye contact with the crowd. With a couple of slow, slick, movements he slinked over to one of the poles, back up against it, hand sliding down to his crotch. Then, one arm reached up towards and grasped the pole with the other leisurely following as he spins around to press his entire body against the metal, somehow managing to to smudge his almost drag-like make up. Almost lazily, as if doing the audience a favor, he gave a little spin around, earning himself an uneven chorus of whoops. With a body roll, the Goblin King took a few steps back, sliding his hands down to his groin. The tight pants left almost nothing to the imagination.

_She's saying that's ok, hey baby do what you please  
I have the stuff that you want, I am the thing that you need  
She looked me deep in the eyes, she's touchin' me so to start  
She says there's no turnin' back, she trapped me in her heart._

A clever sort of jig. A pause, a finger jabbed at someone in the audience. A wink. Another couple of steps. Another wink. Both hands going for the crotch, then a hand flung out to the side, followed by a spin, smoothly transitioning into splits. Both hands stretched out towards the ceiling, letting loose another puff of glitter. Equally parts amused and turned on, Sarah couldn't bear to look away.

_Dirty Diana, no, Dirty Diana, no  
Dirty Diana, no, Dirty Diana, let me be!  
Oh no... Oh no... Oh no..._

Hands dropped down, supporting the Goblin King as he moved his hips up in a couple of fluid motions. One leg slid out and around, letting the man stretch across the floor, humping the floor a couple of times before stretching out with feline grace, ass up, arms tense in front of him.

Almost magically, the man's eyes found Sarah's in the crowd, and a slow grin spread over his face. Eyes hooded, he dug his fingers into the flowing platinum locks. Still sitting, knees spreading and then snapping back together in time to the music, the Goblin King humped the air, earning a round of appreciative hooting from the crowd. A couple of rather graceful movements got him over to the nearest pole, and he reached up, grasping the pole, pulling himself up, spinning around, climbing higher and higher, bending backwards, flirting with the crowd, milking it for all the drama it was worth.

_She likes the boys in the band, she knows when they come to town  
Every musician's fan after the, curtain comes down  
She waits at backstage doors for those who have prestige  
Who promise fortune and fame, a life that's so carefree..._

Slipping back towards the floor, he maneuvered his body so that the audience could see his face. Well, and his chest. The whole... package. And fell into elegantly tumbling circles around the the pole, before coming to a full stop right in front of the audience. One hand reached higher and the other reached lower, way lower, grabbing his inner thigh and thrusting up, rolling his hips to the shouts of the women.

_She's says that's ok, hey baby do what you want  
I'll be your night lovin' thing, I'll be the freak you can taunt  
And I don't care what you say, I want to go too far  
I'll be your everything if you make me a star._

Almost robotic movements of a smooth, somehow still natural, dance. He moved in a perfect trance, choreography flawless, movements precise and seductive. Well planned out and quick to receive all sorts of approval from the audience. Every inch of exposed skin glistened with golden sparkles ans sweat, tantalizing, drawing this point, Sarah had forgotten all about her drink, hypnotized by the almost magic dance of the man on the stage.

_Dirty Diana, no, Dirty Diana, no  
Dirty Diana, no, Dirty Diana, let me be!  
Oh no... Oh no... Oh no..._

The Goblin King stalked over to the pole that had gone untouched for most of the performance and climbed up in a series of quick spins, expertly maneuvering around the bar, dipping and swerving. Abruptly, he let go and slid to the ground, crouching, and slowly getting back up, hips the only thing in contact with the pole. After a quick smile at the crowd, he flung himself away, towards the center of the stage, spun around once, twice, three times, ending up with his back to the crowd. Legs crossed, arms flung out, letting loose a cloud of glitter as the music cut off and the stage went dark.

The crowd erupted in animalistic noises, hooting and screeching and yelling and whooping.

Sarah Williams let go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and took a long drink of her Snapple and slamming it down on the table, hard.

"That's just not fair," she croaked, blinking slowly.

"I know," said Hoggle in a rather matter of fact tone, "That glitter's going to be a pain to clean up."


	3. Hallucination

**3: Hallucination**

Midnight had long passed, morning hadn't yet deigned the Earth with its presence, and everything was lethargic bordering on comatose. The traffic, the stars, the lights, the closing strip club, everything had slowed to a crawl. Sarah stood idly outside of the employee entrance of the Glass Bauble, waiting for Hoggle to finish cleaning up so she could give him a lift home.

The dancers, so glamorous on stage, lost a good portion of their sex appeal as they trickled out the door, giving her a nod or a wave as they passed by. Most ignored her. Every single one looked exhausted. The bags under their eyes seemed almost as heavy as the ones that they carried on their shoulders. But soon the dancers too disappeared.

Sarah's phone vibrated once, twice, and she gave it a glance.

_From Hoggle: 8 more mins. Boss is a slave drive_

The woman sighed and slipped the phone back into her purse, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. She knew very well how this would go. Five minutes had turned into eight, eight into ten, ten into twenty, and then Hoggle would end up catching a ride with someone else because she wasn't going to be stuck out here all night, dammit.

But before Sarah could proceed to fully embrace her sulking, the employee door flew open.

"Hoggle! You're out already!" said Sarah, stepping forward towards the door and was greeted by a tall form that most definitely wasn't Hoggle.

"'m not Hogbrain," slurred the man, leaning forward at an angle that no sober person could ever accomplish.

"Jareth!" groaned Sarah, staggering under the full weight of the dancer.

"Don't 'member telling you my name," said Jareth, "_Jessica._ No. Jennifer? No..."

Sarah sighed, sitting the drunk man down. Gone was the immaculate silvery mullet and with it, the animalistic allure the man had radiated on stage. He looked so... mundane. Well, mundane wouldn't be the right word. He was still wearing the same frilly shirt he had earlier, but the disturbingly tight pants had been replaced with a worn pair of jeans. His make up was smeared, but still distinct. High eyebrows and glittering hooded lids that seemed a good deal puffier than they had before. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut bread (or a steak) were shimmered with smears of blush. His feet were bare, in one hand he clutched a half-empty bottle of vodka.

"You're a mess."

"Didn't ask for your opinion. Don't need it. I'm the Goblin King!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "You're drunk."

"'m not."

"Are too."

"'m not."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two! I'm drunk, not _blind_!"

"So, you are drunk!" said Sarah triumphantly, putting down one finger.

"Fuck," Jareth yelled, voice echoing through the small parking lot.

"Quiet down," hissed Sarah swatting at the dancer's arm.

"Make me," said Jareth, patting her on the cheek and taking a long drink from his bottle.

"Ok, you've definitely had enough," said Sarah grabbing at the bottle.

"No!" whined the man, moving his hand out of reach, "'m drowning my sorrows!"

"What sorrows?! Your pants weren't tight enough?"

"How did you know?" came the bitterly sarcastic answer, "Don't trifle with me! I'm tired, pissed, pissed off, nauseous, and am going home to an empty and cold apartment, so let me be!"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere in that state," said Sarah, "Now hand me that bottle."

"No," said Jareth.

Sarah paused.

"Alright, _Goblin King. _Either we do this the nice way or the hard way."

"And what, pray tell, is the nice way?"

"We play a game-"

"Fantastic. A game. What's next, you stick a pacifier in my mouth?!"

Sarah opened her mouth to say something rude but didn't have time to, because that's when Jareth threw up.

"Ugh! Disgusting!"

"Well, I'm not nauseous anymore," shrugged Jareth and took a swig.

Not for the first time in her night, Sarah stared at the man and started rethinking her life choices.

"Alright, up you go," she said, finally managing to get ahold of the bottle and tossing it across the lot, "We're getting you home. Let's go get you a taxi."

"Don't have any money," mumbled Jareth, burying his head in the crook of Sarah's neck.

"You are... a very affectionate man," said Sarah, tilting his head away, "Who has at least ten dollars."

"The little shit took it," he said.

"Took your money?"

"Took my entire bag and LEFT. For the entire weekend! That's just not fair, Jay. It's simply not fair. "

"Who left?" said Sarah, slowly but surely dragging the man around the puddle of vomit and down the steps.

"The... goblin... little... cousin? Cousin. That's the word. My things are in his car. And he left. The gremlin left town with my shit. He's barely old enough to drive! "

"I can pay for your taxi, pretty boy. Where do you live?"

"In a building. On a floor. In a city. Definitely under the sky."

"You don't remember your address."

"That was my second bottle of vodka, what do you expect?"

"We're halfway across the lot, and you couldn't have told me that before?!"

"I don't want your help! I don't even know you!"

"Yeah, you're a lot better acquainted with that vodka bottle!"

"I am. Very well acquainted. We're bosom companions. Friends. All that wonderful fluff that I don't have!"

Sarah dumped Jareth onto the ground, "Sit. Stay. Good boy."

Jareth quietly grumbled to himself, but sat there on the hard concrete, more out of boneless exhaustion that obedience.

Once satisfied that he wasn't going to move, Sarah pulled out her phone and dialed Hoggle.

"Hoggle?"

_ "Sarah!"_

"Sarah!?" yelped Jareth, but got glared into silence.

_"Who is that?"_

"That is your friend, Jareth," said Sarah with exaggerated cheer.

Over the line, Hoggle groaned, _"First off, he's not my friend. Second off, he's pissed, isn't he?"_

"Yes, he's pissed. Two bottles? Two bottles, Hoggle?" Sarah pinched the bridge of his nose.

_"I told you, we don't carry alcohol-"_

"Bullshit."

Silence. A heavy sigh. Then, _"The dancers were having a little get together after the end of the show. They brought some stuff in, had some fun. One of them was supposed to be his ride, but he left. They're related, I think. Distantly."_

"I know. What I meant to ask is, what do I do with this glitter-puff?"

"I object to that description!" Jareth wailed, sprawled across the concrete.

_"I don't know. Leave him there. No one's going to miss him. He'll sleep it off, catch a bus tomorrow."_

"But what if..." Sarah glanced down at the man on the ground and lowered her voice, "What if he gets mugged? Or beat up? Or freeze? It's cold out here! He's barefoot. Aren't you at all worried?"

A pause, _"No. Why are you?"_

"I don't know, I can't just leave him here!"

_"Your problem."_

"Fine, then you can walk home. I'm taking him over to my place."

_"Be sure to use protection."_

"Bye, Hoggle."

Sarah put her phone away and crossed her arms, looking down at the dancer slouching at her feet. Jareth, in turn, looked up at her, eyes blank, face expressionless.

"Am I going to get laid?" he slurred mournfully.

"Not tonight," Sarah said, dragging the man to his feet, "You're going to get a ride to my apartment, some sleep, and then a ride to wherever it is you live."

"Well, shit."

"Life just isn't fair, is it?"

"Not in the slightest."

**xxx**

The ride back to the apartment elapsed in everything but silence.

"If you throw up in my car," Sarah warned as she shoved Jareth into the front seat and buckled him up, "I'm dumping you on the side of the road."

"My hero," groaned Jareth, throwing his head back against the headrest and yelping as the two made contact.

"Shut up."

"Ooh, the heroine is out of witty remarks! The repartee is over!"

"Shove it, Goblin King."

Jareth sniffed, "Maybe I will."

"Will you?"

"I will."

"Good."

"Good."

There were a couple of moments of blissful silence as Sarah pulled out of the almost empty lot. And then Jareth started singing. It was quiet at first, a few quietly hummed lines of a smooth melody which picked up and grew louder and louder, a jumble of halves of words and random sounds.

"That's pretty," said Sarah conversationally.

Jareth threw her a sidelong glance, opened his mouth, and started belting out lyrics in a screechy, off-pitch, voice, "NO ONE CAN BLAME YOU! FOR WALKING AWAY!"

"Jesus Christ!" yelled Sarah, almost crashing into the car in front of them.

"No, it's me, Jareth."

"Just-"

"TOO MUCH REJECTION, NU-UH! NO LOVE INJECTION..."

**xxx**

"Two steps to the left... A little bit further..." coaxed Sarah, "There we go."

Sarah maneuvered her arms around the drowsy man clinging to her neck, unlocked the door, and practically fell inside.

"Well, this is the place," she said, giving it a bleak look, "Let's get you to the couch."

The apartment was small, but cozy. Sarah dragged Jareth across the carpet to plop him down on a couch with a print reminiscent of grandma's curtains. The man almost fell over as the passed the desk, but somehow managed to stay upright until Sarah dumped him on the couch.

"'s soft," murmured the man, burying his face in an armrest.

"Don't fall asleep," called Sarah as she walked over towards the kitchen, returning a couple of moments later with a full glass of water.

"Drink," she ordered.

"Women are so fickle and changeable," complained Jareth, taking the glass, "One moment it's 'stop drinking!' The next moment it's 'drink!'"

"Jareth."

"Yes, _Jessica_?"

"That's water."

"Oh."

Jareth drank.

Later, just as Sarah was turning off the lights, Jareth rolled around to face her.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Thank me in the morning, Goblin King."


	4. Home At Last

**4: Home at Last**

It was around one in the afternoon when Jareth came to, and Sarah was sitting at her desk in the living room, hair still damp from the shower, soft bathrobe surrounding here. It was from that position that she was treated to the full beauty of the hungover dancer coming to.

First, there was groaning, and a muttered, "If this is actual ass I can taste, I swear to..."

Then, upon realizing that this was not his home at all, the man flailed end fell off the couch, swearing as his head hit the floor. Quickly as he could, he scrambled up and started wildly looking around, before meeting Sarah's amused gaze and blushing bright red.

"Sleep well?" the woman asked, running her fingers through her hair.

Jareth looked mortified, "Did we...?"

"No," said Sarah, turning back to her computer, "You want breakfast?"

The dancer said nothing for a couple of seconds and simply stood there, rubbing glitter from his cheeks until he seemed to realize that she had said something.

"I have to apologize for any inappropriate behavior last night," he said stiffly, starting to inch towards the door.

"The only inappropriate thing you did was get drunk out of your mind by yourself, with no shoes and no money," said Sarah, swiveling her twirly chair to watch him limp across the room.

"That is none of your business," said Jareth starting to open the door, "I am none of your business."

"Making a run for it?" asked Sarah amicably, "Do you want a ride?"

"I'm alright, thank you, and yes, yes I am."

Jareth flung open the door and took a step into the hallways, then froze.

Sarah tilted her head to the side in amusement.

The man looked to the left, looked to right, stared straight forward and let out a shriek of indignation.

"WHAT?!"

"What?" asked Sarah, rushing over see what the problem was. The hallway was empty. All the doors except hers were closed.

"That's..." Jareth pointed to the door across the hall from Sarah's, "That.."

"Is a door," said Sarah patiently, "To an apartment. That an ass who plays insanely loud music at two AM moved into last month."

"That's my apartment!" hissed Jareth, putting his head in his hands, "Jesus Christ."

"No, it's me, Sarah," said the woman sarcastically.

"Sarah?" Jareth turned to look at her in confusion, "Didn't you say..."

"I lied,"Sarah shrugged, turning back into her apartment, "And so did you. "

"I'm a stripper, I have an excuse."

Sarah snorted, "Just get you ass in here and close the door. You don't have a key on you, anyways. We can call the super later."

Sulkily, Jareth closed the door, "How did you know?"

"I checked."

"Did you now? And where, pray tell, did you check?" said Jareth slyly, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, actually. Very much. Did the irresistible sex appeal of my tight pants draw you in? Or was it my charming personality?"

Sarah shook her head, laughing lightly, "Come on, Goblin King. Sit down, I'll make you breakfast. Well, lunch, but those are technicalities."

For a second, Jareth looked like he was about to bolt.

Sarah rolled her eyes, "No point in running. Sit down and take your fate like a man."

Jareth obeyed, but not without giving Sarah a dirty once over, "There's other things here I'd like to take as a man."

"Like a shower?"

"...among other things."

"Goblin King, do me a favor."

"Anything, love."

"Shower and coffee first, innuendos later."

The dancer obliged, and that was the end of the first of many meetings to come.


	5. Locks and Keys

It was three in the afternoon, and Sarah and Jareth were unanimously voted the two most suspicious people in the building.

"Are you sure that's how you do it?" asked Sarah, eying Jareth critically.

"I've been doing this for years, I know what goes where!" said the man airily, adjusting his fingers.

"This is taking forever! Just put it in already."

"Don't teach me how to pick locks!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, watching Jareth struggle with some hairpins, trying to force them in and wiggle them around the lock.

"We could just call the super," she said.

Jareth cast her a dirty look and went back to messing around with the lock. Though the two had initially gotten off to a rocky start that morning, things had evened out a bit after Jareth's hangover had subsided a little bit and Sarah had changed into something less... morning after. They looked like quite the pair. The stark contrast of "glittery hooker" and "I probably slept in this " really set the scene of two unlikely burglars.

"Or are you an independent stripper who don't need no key?"

"What I need," ground out the man, "If for you to shut up and let me break in in peace."

And that's when someone down the hallway started screaming.

Sarah jumped. Jareth dropped his hairpins and started swearing. It was a little old lady, standing just outside of apartment 306, holding two cats and looking like she was ready to singlehandedly take on a platoon of Nam veterans.

"Break in! Break in!" she screeched in a voice banshees would kill for, "Put your hands where I can see them!"

"Ma'am!" said Sarah, quickly following instructions, "Ma'am, it's alright! Please, listen t-"

"I don't have to listen to you, you're a hooligan!"

Jareth rolled his eyes and went back to picking the lock.

"Ma'am, I am your _neighbor!_ And so is he!"

The lady squinted, "I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me, but he lives here!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"I don't believe you."

Sarah felt a headache coming on. Jareth dropped his pins. His stream of consciousness cursing got louder, then quieted down to a mumble again.

The old woman looked like she was about to burst, "Tell your partner to stop that!"

"My partner?"

"Stop what?"

"The... the crime! He still has the audacity to continue picking that lock!"

Jareth gave her a once over that could make RuPaul cry, "Lady, I live here."

"I don't believe you!"

"Well then call the superintendent! It's not that hard."

The lady squinted at them like one does at the sun. Or a particularly disgusting-looking meal.

"That's exactly what I'm planning on doing!"

"Good god, then do it!" yelled Jareth, waving a pin in the air.

"I am!"

"Great!"

"Good!"

**xxx**

The super showed up twenty minutes later, wearing a ridiculous hat with a red bird on top of it. The old man looked like he hadn't slept in two years and hadn't washed in three. Anyone not familiar with him would likely think he was a hobo who had accidentally wandered in and jacked a cup of tea from someone. And yet he had that look of wisdom that comes with age, the key to every apartment, and a paranoid mind, so the powers that be let him keep his job.

"He says he lives here!" complained the old lady, holding her cat in much the same way one would hold a rifle (the cat looked very uncomfortable).

The superintendent gave Jareth a long, soul piercing look that lasted a good five minutes.

Sarah looked on hopefully. As did the cat lady. Jareth stared forlornly at the stubborn lock.

"Yep," said the super, "He lives here."

With that, the old man turned around and shuffled away.

"You heard what he said," growled Jareth, fiddling with pins, "Now shoo. Skedaddle. Fly. Go feed your cats."

The woman gave them one last dirty look and vanished back into the depths of her apartment.

**xxx**

"It's alright," said Sarah, rather convincingly, to a worried looking young woman with a very large pile of groceries, "He lives here."

**xxx**

Half an hour and seven broken hairpins later, the door was finally open.

"Sarah," said Jareth, looking into the woman's eyes.

"Yes, Jareth?"

"I... I want you to have this."

Gently, he took her hand, wrapped in his own, and deposited something in it with a clink.

A couple moments of silence, then:

"Jareth."

"Yes?"

"What... is this?"

"That's the key to my apartment."

"It looks... inappropriate."

"Don't ask questions, love. Just keep it in case I get locked out again."

"I'm shocked you trust me so much."

"Do I really have a choice?"

**xxx**

The key came in useful two weeks later when Jareth showed up at Sarah's door around three in the morning, wearing a slinky red dress and singing the Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of his lungs.


	6. Monday

It was seven in the morning, and Sarah was blissfully asleep, face buried in a mountain of pillows. Rehearsals didn't start until eleven that day (technical difficulties at the theater), she already had the script memorized, and her alarm wouldn't be ringing for another two hours. If Sarah was more religious, she'd probably be thanking whatever powers that be. As it was, she was sleeping, which is generally not the best state for any theological discussions or shout-outs.

"Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!"

The woman rolled over, slamming a pillow over her head. This was not the time to suddenly develop a detached voice of some sort...

"Sarah! _Please_, open the goddamn door! I need my key!"

...that sounded remarkably like her neighbor.

"This is _important_!"

Nothing was more important that a stable sleep cycle.

"I have a day job! You won't be home when I come back, and I'll be stuck out in the cold for endless hours, full of pain and misery..."

Alright. That was interesting. But not more interesting than sleep.

"How can you be so cruel?!"

A pause.

"I will start singing. Would you like me to serenade you, dear? I'm perfectly capable of that. And many other things. Like lock picking. And breaking and entering. And setting fire to this entire building."

Drama queen. Sarah considered it. Sighed. Rolled out of bed. Started looking for a robe. Not nearly awake enough for this nonsense.

"How you turn my world, you precious thing!"

Apparently, Jareth was going to make good on his threat.

"You starve and near exhaust me!"

Sarah wrapped a blanket around herself and trudged out into the living room.

"Everything I've done, I've done for you!"

Where was that damn key? She was sure she'd left it on the coffee table...

"I move the stars for no one!"

She paused. Fuck.

"You've run so long!"

It was on top of the book case.

"You've run so far!"

She dropped the blanket and grabbed a chair.

"Your eyes can be so cruel!"

Manuevering the chair around various pieces of furniture turned out to be a bit of a hassle.

"Just as I can be so cruel!"

He'd better not be picking that lock.

"Oh, I do believe in you..."

Sarah clambered onto the chair, reached up, pawed around for the key.

"Yes, I do!"

Three tic tacs, a stuffed fox, a tube of lipstick...

"Live without your sunlight..."

The key!

"Love without your heartbeat..."

Practically falling over, Sarah scrambled off of the chair and over to the door. And stopped.

"I... I... Can't... Live... Within you..."

Some part of her, tiny and soft, fluttered at the words. She leaned against the door, smiling slightly, cherishing the fuzzy little feeling, and the warmth that spread through her. But this wasn't the time for that. Taking a deep breath, she stomped the little light out, and opened the door.

"Nice song. Whose it by?" she asked snidely.

"Me," said Jareth simply, "Did you like it?"

"It was... alright..." said Sarah, handing over the key.

"Thank you, Sarah," smiled the man, "But as much as I would love to talk music with you, I must be off. The future doesn't wait!"

And with that, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. And then he was gone, sprinting down the hallway.

Sarah felt herself blushing, and reached up, laying her palm against her cheek.

"Ehem..."

Sarah whirled around to see a young man in green and blue flannel glaring at her from around his door.

"Keep it down, would you? Some of us here don't care about your epic romance, and my first class isn't until nine."

"Epic romance? You think?"

"Shakespeare's dancing the macarena in his grave."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"What do you think, lady?"

Sarah shook her head, "Thanks, Puck. Thanks."

"I should be creeped out that you know my name, but how about I just tell you to shut up?"

"Your last one-night-stand screamed it loud enough to bring down the building."

"Hmm. Touche."

"Point to me..."

"And we're at one-one. Now seriously, shut up, I have a test in two hours."

* * *

**Author's note:**

I wasn't actually expecting to write this bit, but in honor of April 1st (that's what it is where I am), I figured I might jot something down and post it up. There should be one, maybe two more chapter things by the end of the week (I'm on spring break, so I have lots of free time).

Thank you so much for the positive responses, and I hope you were all nice and fluffy to each other this April Fools!


	7. I'll Show You Mine If

**I'll Show You Mine If**

Sometimes people came into your life like wrecking balls. Not only tearing down your fucking walls, but also mucking up the carpeting and not even giving you a month's notice to move out. Jareth, it seemed, was one of those people. And Sarah was perfectly alright with that because hey, beggars can't be choosers and she was low on friends and human companionship. Hoggle lived on the other side of town and worked so many jobs that Sarah couldn't even keep track of them all, and apart from him she didn't really know anybody else in this city, even after a year of living there. Jareth was a strangely welcome, if unwanted, surprise. After the initial drunken encounter on Saturday and the serenade that morning, their interactions had generally been limited to snarky exchanges in the hallway and some yelling to turn the music down.

Sarah liked Jareth, almost immediately. But who she definitely didn't like was the gremlin standing in front of her.

"So, uh, has my cuz been around here?" the teenager grinned in what he probably thought was a seductive manner and lifted a black duffel bag just a little bit higher.

Sarah gave him a suspicious once over.

First off, the kid was short and rather unfortunate looking, with a strange, green, tint to his skin and ears that would make Dumbo cry with jealousy. Dark greasy hair hung down to his shoulders, and his sleazy smile showed a myriad of crooked, yellowing, teeth. His outfit spoke of fedoras, ironic flannel worn badly, socks and crocks, and cargo shorts. And the little shit thought he was suave.

"You know? My cuz? Tall? Blond? Weird eyes?"

Sarah squinted. She now had a pretty good idea of why her neighbor had called this thing a goblin. This barely constituted as a teenager.

"Hey babe, you a mute? That's ok, I'm into that shit."

Sarah nodded, "Uhuh. JAAAAAARETH."

Something crashed and clanged in the apartment across from Sarah's. Muffled cursing and a fumbled slam was followed by Jareth practically falling out of the door, wearing what looked like a red and orange leotard.

"Yes, love-Oh. Gremlin."

"CUUUZ! That's a damn fine-"

"Gremlin?"

"Yes?"

"You say another thing about _Sarah_, I will shove your fake driver's license so far up your ass you'll be shitting parking tickets for a month."

"But YOU called her 'love'!"

"I have an accent and can make it sound sarcastic in ways you could never manage."

"Oh. Cuz, why are you wearing th-"

"It's a workout routine," said Sarah sweetly, "Called two neighbors team up to hide someone's body in an alleyway. "

"Scram," said Jareth, "And leave the bag."

The Gremlin scrammed.

Blissful silence filled the hallway, and Sarah finally got a good view of the leotard. A pattern of red and orange trapezoids was sprinkled over a yellow base.

"So sorry about that," said Jareth, bending over to pick up the black bag, "All of my relatives o that side of the family turned out rather unfortunately. "

"So did that leotard," said Sarah.

"Excuse you! This is the height of fashion."

Sarah lifted an eyebrow, "If you're a glam rock star, maybe."

"And whose to say I'm not?"

That earned him an eye roll, "In a parallel universe, maybe."

Jareth chuckled and slung the bag over his shoulder.

"What are you doing in there, anyways?"

"Practicing," said Jareth, "You think going upside down on a pole is easy?"

"Well..."

"Want to come inside and see?"

"That was an innuendo."

"Yes. Yes it was."

"Well, don't mind if I do, Goblin King."

Jareth winced, "Not the most flattering stage name, is it?"

"No, it really isn't."

"Well, come on in then."

"Alright, just a second."

Sarah went back into her apartment, grabbed her keys and the script, and went back out, crossing the hallway and walking through the open door of Jareth's room.

As cliché as it was, the first thing she noticed was the smell. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but not completely disgusting either. It was a still-standing sort of odor, reminiscent of lipstick and scented candles. The second thing she noticed was the utter mess in the apartment itself. The epitome of a bachelor flat. Well. Not exactly.

Clothes spilled out of neatly labeled boxes and onto the carpeted floor. Well, clothes was a bit of a far stretch. The mess on the floor was mainly made up of costumes and lingerie. Elaborate, embroidered, coats that looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire were mixed in with scraps of lacy lingerie, heels, and dresses and skirts of all shapes and sizes. This explosion of glitter and fabric took up most of the floor, with a clear path from the doorway to the pole to the window to the couch.

Oh, yes. The pole. That was quite glaringly obvious. Large, from the floor to the roof, the thing looked pretty securely attached. Or at least securely attached enough to easily hold up the lanky dancer currently on it.

"Lock the door behind you!" the man called from halfway up the pole, "You never know with this part of town."

Sarah did.

"Sorry for the mess," said Jareth, doing a very interesting looking tumble (how he managed to grab onto the pole at the last moment was a definite surprise), "Part of the profession."

"Dresses and lingerie?" asked Sarah, skeptically, eying a particularly... interesting... pair of underwear.

"I do drag two or three days out of the week," he said, "You should come and see me. I'm hilarious."

Sarah arranged herself on the couch, kicking off a slinky red dress, "So not just stripping?"

"That's two to three days of the week as well. It varies. Whenever they want me, I come in. Or out. Depends, really. I have a couple of set slots on Fridays and Tuesdays, and I fill in if someone can't make it. Saturday is drag night. I have a day job, you know. This just helps pay the rent. And it's a fantastic way to meet women."

Sarah snorted, "And have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Met any women lately?"

"Oh," said Jareth, sliding down to the ground, "There's been one. Brunette. Actress. Lives in this building. You might have seen her around."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Is it working?"

Silence.

"Jareth, that is so cliché I don't know what to do with it."

"I'll try harder next time."

"That would be appreciated."

"Noted."

Jareth lay down and started doing crunches. Sarah focused on her script, slipping into the mutters of memorization. Time creeped by, the hands of the clock next to the couch slid from six to seven, from seven to eight, and from there around to ten. And Sarah and Jareth simply were. They barely talked, just existed in the same space, and neither of them complained about it. Sarah read and reread her script. Jareth finished his work out and sat next to her with a stack of papers (Sarah didn't bother to give them a close look), looking them over and marking one thing or another. At some point, Sarah leaned over the side, and fell over. Jareth laughed at her, she hit him, and the evening continued on.

It was Jareth who broke the vaguely domestic mood, glancing over at the clock and sighing loudly.

"What?" asked Sarah.

"It's ten."

"So?"

"I have to get up at seven."

"You poor bastard."

"Right on both accounts, but that means you should probably leave. I'm sure your bed is much more comfortable than my couch."

"Kicking me out?"

"Not really. You have the key, and you're welcome back any time."

"You too."

"What?"

"Here."

"What?"

"It's my key."

"That's... intimate."

"It's the whole 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' thing."

"Was that an innuendo?"

"It's a joke. Good night, Jareth."

"Good night, Sarah."


	8. I'll Take You to the Coffee Shop

There were a couple of things Sarah wanted out of life right now. Among them were a good night's sleep, some mindless TV, pizza, enormous piles of money, good dental insurance, and Disney Land. And maybe a boyfriend. What she got, however, was an unpaid day off (the technical difficulties at the theater had gotten even worse) and a broken coffee machine. And she really wanted coffee. Yeah. That was probably at the top of the list.

In theory, she could walk over to the Starbucks a couple of blocks away, but in all honesty? That seemed like too much effort for an overpriced cup of caffeine. Not to mention that her current outfit wasn't very conductive to interacting with the public and she didn't feel like changing.

So Sarah lay sprawled out on her couch, wearing a pretty damn accurate replica of Xena's costume (circa season one of _Xena: Warrior Princess. _Shit had been terribly time consuming and expensive, but had definitely paid off.) and watching reruns of said show. Everyone had their hobbies. This happened to be one of hers.

Once she thought about it, it was probably pathetic that both her work and her hobbies revolved around acting, costumes, and fantasy, but then again, her neighbor was a stripper with day job, so it couldn't be all that bad.

Speaking of her neighbor... A little worm of an idea began to wriggle its way into Sarah's mind. Jareth had a coffee machine. She had his key. It's not breaking and entering if you're invited in, quote, "welcome back any time." Sarah glanced at her clock. She had a good twenty minutes until Jareth got back from filling in for Bob. Or Randall. She couldn't really remember his name, and it didn't really matter, anyways.

Clambering up off the couch (with some artistic clinking and swearing as the costume pinched in uncomfortable places), she grabbed her keys and tiptoed over to her door. Opened it a crack. Looked to the left, looked to the right, realized there was no one there, and, locking the door behind her, darted across the hall. A couple of moments of fumbling with the key, and she was inside.

The place was still just as much of a mess as it had been a couple of days back. Sarah sighed, and picked her way past the labyrinth of clothing and into the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean. Well, everyone had their priorities.

The coffee machine stood next to the stove, shining like a beacon in the darkness. It was bedazzled. Sarah snorted. Jareth had a bedazzled coffee maker. Oh, well, she couldn't really say she was surprised.

A couple of minutes of cupboard raiding and intense staring at the machine later, Sarah had finally found the coffee and figured out which button she had to press. This really shouldn't be this hard. When the machine started doing its thing, Sarah wandered back out to the living room and gave the whole thing a skeptical once over.

All the boxes were very clearly labeled to the point where it should be pretty easy to just sort everything. Well, she was using his coffee machine, might as well give something back for it...

Sarah never really liked cleaning, but for the sake of coffee and a friend, she was ready to do even that. The fact that the friend in question was insanely attractive was just a plus.

To her surprise, she soon forgot all about the coffee and completely immersed herself in sorting through dresses and lingerie. The man had a wide collection of both, some of which she had to ask him to borrow sometime later, if such an occasion arose. And she hoped it did, because that red dress was absolutely gorgeous.

She had gotten two boxes out of the way, cleared off the couch, and was onto the underwear when the doorbell rang. Did Jareth forget his key again? Sighing, she got up and went to open the door.

"Hey, nice to see you're back. I was just cleaning up a bit since... Oh. Hello."

"Hello, dear."

The person on the other side of the door was definitely not Jareth. For one thing, they were way too short, and their skin too dark. For another, they were a woman. A little old lady, more specifically, with a short white afro and large, horn rimmed glasses. She was holding a large stack of papers and smiling pleasantly.

"Hi."

"I'm from the school," said the lady, her smile growing wider as she got a closer look at what Sarah was wearing, "Is Jareth home?"

Sarah squinted slightly. School? Was that the name of a club? The lady looked nothing like a stripper.

"No. I'm just waiting for him," Sarah said, realizing that the woman must be from Jareth's day job, "I can just take the papers for him."

The old lady nodded in approval, "Nice to see young man has landed himself a girl like you. What's your name?"

"Sarah."

"Sarah. What a nice name. However, I would rather give these to him in person."

Shit. The room was a mess.

"Um, I'm not sure I can ask you to come in, Mrs...?"

"Mrs. Ket. But really, just call me Anne, it's Mrs. Ket only to the children. And I'm sure it's alright-"

Children?!

"No, Mrs- Anne. I'm so sorry, it's a mess," said Sarah, attempting to block the door.

"Oh, I can deal with a little bit of a mess. Jareth'll be alright with it. We both work with five year olds, after all."

And that's when it clicked. Jareth was a kindergarten teacher.

Anne took advantage of Sarah's stupor to push past her and into the living room.

"Just moving in, I see," Anne said, surveying the room.

"Yeah," said Sarah, deciding to go along with it, "Just been unpacking."

The old woman raised an eyebrow at the blue lace panties hanging from the door to the bathroom, "How nice it is, being young."

Sarah blushed.

"And what's... uh... The pole for?"

Shit. She probably didn't know about the... other... jobs.

"Exercise," said Sarah, starting to weave up a lie,"My sister's a professional pole dancer. Does it for the art. She got me into it a couple of months back. I'm nowhere near as good as her, but it keeps me fit."

Anne nodded wisely, "Sexercise."

"Right," said Sarah, mildly disturbed, "Sexercise. Would you like a seat?"

"That would be nice," said the teacher, placing the papers down on the coffee table.

"What are the papers for?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, field trip forms to the petting zoo. He doesn't talk about work much, does he?"

Sarah shook her head, "Not even a bit."

"I wonder why. He's great with children. They love him, the mothers adore him... Well, that's probably the reason, there."

"Excuse me?"

"He probably didn't want you to be jealous. The mothers are all over him, after all. They eased up a bit after you two started dating, but there's still a steady flow of invitations from some of the more cougar-like types."

"Since we started dating?" said Sarah faintly.

"Well, yes. Jareth's a good one. Keep him close, he'll make a good husband one day. Now. Enough about that, what do you do for a living?"

"Well, I'm an actress."

The woman gave her _the look_ over her thick glasses, "Not _that_ sort of actress, I hope."

"No. No! I mostly do a lot of Shakespearian work, although I've done a couple of musicals lately."

"Well, that's alright, then. I'm sorry. With all the..." Anne waved a hand at the clothes around the room, "I just assumed."

"It happens," said Sarah, forcing a smile.

**xxx**

After five minutes, the conversation mellowed out and became a bit more enjoyable. After another five, Sarah heard the telltale sign of the key turning in the lock, and jumped up, rushing over to the door just as it opened.

"Honey!" she exclaimed, drawing a rather stunned (and thankfully normally dressed) Jareth in for a hug, and leaned forward in such a way that from the couch it looked like a very passionate kiss.

"Anne's here. She thinks we're dating," Sarah hissed, "I'm saving your ass here, said the pole's mine. So play along."

Still looking rather dazed, Jareth dropped his bag to the ground and hugged Sarah tightly, hands low on her waist. Sarah tilted her head slightly, then moved back, figuring the fake kiss (thank you, acting!) had gone on long enough.

"Must be nice to be young," said Anne from couch, smiling contently.

"Oh. Anne. Hello," said Jareth, keeping an arm around Sarah's waist.

"Hello," said the old lady, getting up, "Just stopped by to drop off these papers, and Sarah and I got talking. She's a nice girl."

"That she is," said Jareth, smiling slightly and kissing the top of Sarah's head.

"Well, I must get going now. So sorry. Got to rush. I realize the two of you must have some _evening plans_," Anne said with a wink, bustling out the door, "So nice meeting you. Bye bye."

"Bye bye," chorused Sarah and Jareth, still attached at the hip.

Jareth's coworker smiled and shut the door behind her.

The two neighbors stood there, recovering from the little whirlwind of a lady.

"Jareth?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"You can let go of my waist now."

"Right. Sorry."

Jareth moved away, blushing slightly. Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Anne can be a bit... much," said Jareth, "Why were you here, anyways? And what are you wearing?"

"My coffee machine is broken and this is a perfect replica of Lucy Lawless's costume from _Xena: Warrior Princess_."

"Nice. And couldn't you have just gone to Starbucks?"

"I didn't want to change!"

Jareth sighed, "Well, what now?"

"You owe me one, now," said Sarah smugly, "Kindergarten teacher? Really?"

"Yes, really," gritted out Jareth, "What do you want? The moon? The stars? Your deepest desires?"

"All very nice, but paying for my Starbucks should be a good start," smiled Sarah.

"Just that?"

"Yeah. You in?"

"Sure."

"Let me just go throw a coat over this, then."

"Alright."

"Ok. See you in a few."

"Right. Oh, and Sarah?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Thank me with caffeine. And explaining why she thinks you have a girlfriend."

"Done."

"Fantastic."


	9. Shameless Exposition

"Sarah, you look like a flasher."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"...Ok, maybe a little bit."

She did look a bit like a flasher, though she could have gone a while longer without admitting that. Not wanting to waste time changing out of her costume, she'd simply thrown the first coat of a convenient length over it. Which just so happened to be a black men's trench coat that went down almost to her knees. The costume boots didn't help much, either.

"Why do you have that, anyways?" asked Jareth skeptically.

"I happen to sometimes get paid for dressing up in costumes and going around yelling at people," said Sarah primly, stuffing her hands deeper inside the pockets, "Also, it's fun."

Jareth gave an understanding nod, "Can't say I can argue about hobbies... I did mean the coat, though."

"Oh," said Sarah, "My ex never collected his stuff. Said he found a better option and I haven't heard from him since."

"Ouch. That's rude of him."

"Wow. Good job stating the obvious."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The two walked in silence for short while. Traffic whizzed by. The city lights glared all about them, from billboards and streetlamps and the skyscrapers in the distance. Pedestrians were scarce, at least on their side of the street. It was all rather quaint. Romantic, almost. Well, as romantic as it can really get with the sewer stench coming up from uncovered manholes and a polluted sky blessed with a suspiciously magenta color long after the sun had set.

"I'm sorry," said Jareth, breaking the silence.

"For what?"

"Asking about the coat."

"It's alright. I'm not bitter about it. It happened a couple of months after we graduated, which is almost the distant past at this point."

"Good for you. I was going to ask if maybe I needed to buy you more coffee as an apology."

"Damn. I should have played the wounded heroine."

"Too late now."

"What about you?"

"What?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Do you have anyone?"

Jareth gave her a sidelong glance, "Sarah, if I had anyone I'm pretty sure you would have met them already."

"So what Anne said...?"

"One too many overly enthusiastic mothers and a hasty explanation as to why I had to rush off so quickly."

"So you said you had a girlfriend?"

"Yes. I said I had a date I was running late for and that I didn't want to ruin my chances."

"Wouldn't those bloodthirsty cougars be all for ruining your chances?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow, "_Bloodthirsty cougars_? Anne really must have gotten to you... Well, yes they would have, but my coworkers are all surprisingly invested in my nonexistent love life. Which they will now think is very existent. Especially after Anne shares all the juicy tidbits about the young actress I'm enamored with."

"...You've used the girlfriend excuse a lot, haven't you?"

"I have to admit, it sounds a lot better than, 'Terribly sorry. Got to run. I've been working on this new pole dancing routine, you see, and it's premiering tonight at a rather seedy strip club in downtown.'"

"'I have a date with my girlfriend,' does sound a lot better," conceded Sarah.

"I'm not sure my coworkers would be too thrilled to find out exactly the things I do to make some money on the side," sighed Jareth.

"Exactly how many jobs _do_ you have?" asked Sarah.

"Let me think..."

"Oh, that can't be a good start."

"Shut up. You're the one who asked. Well, I teach kindergarten by day because that's what mummy always wanted for me..."

"Momma's boy, then?"

"Not especially. But my parents do have a lovely selection of items I'd love to inherit when they die, and with that comes a certain level of propriety."

"Jareth!"

"Excuse me for thinking ahead! Plus, I love children. They're rather sweet when you get past all the... unsavory parts. Like bones and teeth and eyeballs..."

Sarah let out a disbelieving laugh.

Jareth smiled.

"Anyways. I'm a teacher by day, stripper by night... Shit. That sounds rather Hollywood. Anyways. It's good exercise. I'm also a drag queen because I'm good at it and I look stunning in a dress," he winked at Sarah, "And during the summers I do magic tricks at birthday parties."

"Pole magic tricks?" Sarah asked, waggling her eyebrows.

"Juggling magic tricks!"

"I see."

"And, if I'm feeling like it, I sometimes busk. Juggling or guitar playing and singing."

"If you _feel_ like it? You do all of that for fun?!"

"Now that I have a proper job, I do," said Jareth, smiling slightly, "That used to be all I did until... Well, doesn't matter. It's always good to have more than one job, just in case something goes awry. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you just an actress? Or is there more to the great Sarah Williams?"

Sarah shrugged, "Just acting, mainly. I'm good enough so that that's mainly all I have to do. When it's not enough, I do paperwork for the children's theater over that way," she waved vaguely towards the suburbs, "And waitressing. That always has openings."

"Much like the oldest profession."

"Don't tell me you're a hooker, too."

"Would you think less of me if I was?"

"Only if you didn't buy me a coffee."

"Fantastic."

Sarah and Jareth walked in amicable silence until they finally reached the tiny Starbucks, tucked away between an antique shop and a lingerie store. A gaggle of college students burst out went on their way, and our pair quietly slipped in through the still open door.

"So, what would you like?" asked Jareth the moment they were through the door.

"Coffee. Largest they got. Hot."

"What, no white girl frilly caramel vanilla explosion?"

"Jareth, you're more of a white girl than I am."

"Ooh. Burn."

"Are you goin' to flirt or order?"called a bored looking young man from the counter, glaring at them from over a pair of round glasses, "You've ten minutes 'till we close. So make it quick. The sex shop next door's open 'till much later."

"Advice is noted and appreciated," said Jareth, rather sarcastically, "Now what are your sizes?"

"Well, I'm about-"

"Drinks, dumbass," interjected Sarah.

"Oh, well, we have, from smallest to largest. Demi, those are espresso shots, Short, Tall, Grande, Venti, and if you want to die of caffeine overdose, the Trenta."

"Two coffees, Trenta, both of them, black," said Jareth, sliding a twenty over the counter.

"Black?" said Sarah with mock surprise, "What about your weird white girl drinks?"

"I take my coffee black," sniffed Jareth.

"Like your men?" called the barista.

"Sometimes," grinned Jareth, "I have many preferences."

"TMI," yelled the barista.

"No, no, continue," Sarah, waved the barista's words aside, "I'm intrigued."

"Men, women, in between," shrugged Jareth, "Doesn't really matter in the end, does it? Is the coffee ready?"

"Yeah, two black coffees comin' up. Now get out, I need to close up."

Sarah grabbed her cup and greedily inhaled the bitter smell wafting up from it.

"Oh, the things I'd do for coffee," she moaned, taking a gulp.

"Hm," said Jareth, watching her over the top of his cup.

"What?"

"So if, for instance, I was to call you up for a favor to get me away, and I'm quoting you here, 'bloodthirsty cougars', you'd accept payments of coffee?"

"Yes," said Sarah, without hesitation.

"So then, it's a deal?"

"It's a deal," said Sarah firmly.

**xxx**

Coffee long gone, the two sat, side by side, at the bus stop, too lazy to head home just yet.

"Jareth?"

"Yes, love?"

"I probably would've done it even without the coffee."

"Oh?"

"Helping a bro out," drawled Sarah in an inner-city accent.

"Never speak like that again."

"What, dawg? You wanna piece of this? Huh? Huh?"

Jareth hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking in quite laughter, "Stop, that's terrible!"

**xxx**

When it got too cold to simply sit and chat, the two got to their feet and trudged home. When they finally got to their floor, won the fumbling battle with their respective locks and keys, Jareth turned and smiled at Sarah.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not a hooker."

"Good night, Jareth."

"Good night, Sarah."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Thanks so much for your kind words, everyone! I'm flattered you like it!_

_The next chapter's going to be Valentine's Day themed, even though that's come and gone already. To tell you the truth, I have no idea where this fic is going, but its developments have been a pleasant surprise for me._

_After the next chapter (which will be quite amusing, trust me on that, I'm looking forward to writing it), I think I'm going to try writing some longer installments, although I don't know how well that's gonna work out. It'll probably end with more shorter chapters instead of longer ones. I don't know. We'll see as they come._

_I don't know how often I'll be updating this after Sunday (school's starting up again), but I'll try for maybe a chapter or two a week, depending on how it goes. The short ones are easy to write. So yeah. Thank you for reading._


	10. Blackout (Intermission)

**_Authors Note:_**  
_Just a quick filler I jotted down because the dialogue came to mind. Actual chapter should be up tomorrow. Sorry!_

"Sarah! Sarah open the door."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"I'm naked!"

"I have the key!"

"Then by all means, invade my privacy!"

"Only with your permission," said Jareth, and unlocked the door.

The scene inside the apartment was quite picturesque. Sarah, in a pair of sweats and a sports bra, was contorted in some insane pose on the floor, surrounded by a myriad of flickering candles. A soothing tune played in the background, and something smelled faintly of vanilla.

Raising an eyebrow, he gave Sarah thorough once over, "You're wearing clothes. Witch craft?"

"No. Yoga," said the actress, glaring up at Jareth from her pose.

"Such a pity. Anyhow. Since the electricity is out, I figured I'd bring over a deck of cards and Connect Four, see what we can do with that."

Sarah straightened out and sighed. "Connect Four. Don't you have any friends?"

"One, if she even constitutes as a friend. But she's married and lives on the other side of town."

"Anne?"

"No, Morgan. She teaches one of the other kindergarten classes."

"Ooh... Morgan! Are you two having a passionate yet secretive love affair in between story time?"

"Stop."

"Do you serenade her with the alphabet?"

"You have no power over me!"

"I bet _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ is just great at setting the scene..."

"She's married. And I, against all of your suspicions, am a decent man."

"But is she a decent woman?"

This took Jareth a couple of seconds. Finally, he came up with the answer: "No, no she really isn't."

"And why is that?"

"She's friends with the Pack."

"Why does that word sound capitalized?"

"Because it is."

"You're not involved with the mafia, are you?"

"Not anymore."

"That's reassuring."

"It's meant to be."

"It really isn't. Anyways, what is this Pack?"

"Five woman, early forties, insanely rich, insanely single, and with at least one kid each. And she set them on me!"

"Set them on you?"

"Long story short, I spilled juice on her on my first day. She got pissed off and told the Pack all about how pretty and good with children I was. One of them offered to pay me, but..."

"You're not a hooker."

"There's some situations where you just have to draw the line. Also, there's no way I'm that cheep. That... Pack... Is the reason I had to invent a girlfriend in the first place, really. Well, them and Anna. And Morgan. Though the latter turned out to be quite a decent person when presented with a peace offering of sushi... Which still didn't get rid of the Pack."

Sarah gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, "That's very nice, but you still haven't set up the game."

"Right. Better do that. Red or black?"

"Red."

"The blood of angry men?"

"Jokes on you, despair."


	11. Valentine

In all honesty, this was not the way Sarah pictured spending her Valentine's Day. This wasn't even close. Her idea had involved chocolate, roses, and at least one naked man. A family lunch was far _far_ from what she'd wanted.

But she smiled politely and followed the four rules of proper family conduct. One, smile. Two, ignore everything anybody says comparing her to her mother. Three, talk as little as possible. Four, dress as casually as possible. Thankfully, her acting (lying, bullshitting ability, whatever you wanted to call it) had improved a lot since her first attempt at the art in high school, to the point where they were enough to full mostly anyone. Except Toby. But that's because her brother was a suspicious, though lovable, little shit. Even at ten, which wasn't old enough to be world weary by anybody's standards, especially when you're living in the suburbs of Fuckall, America where nothing happens until you drive about twenty minutes towards the city. But Toby pulled it off and Sarah didn't question it. Theirs was an awkward, though long lasting, truce.

Sarah glanced at her phone, situated strategically at such an angle that no one would be able to see it. A short time after the initial coffee incident (around when Jareth showed up at her door, yelling the lyrics of the Bohemian Rhapsody to the tune of YMCA), the two had exchanged numbers and had been exchanging short texts ever since. Unfortunately for Sarah, it was apparently unprofessionalfor a teacher to text while watching over a gaggle of kindergarteners, so she was left to cast the occasional glare at her phone and nothing to do.

"So," said Karen, spooning some more mashed potatoes onto Toby's plate, who eyed them with a vague disgust, "Sarah. Do you have a boyfriend, yet? I'm delighted that you're spending some time with the family, but shouldn't you be doing _other_ things?"

Sarah paused. Thought over it. And her smile grew more genuine than polite. Some things could go both ways.

"I do, actually," she said sweetly.

"No, you don't," said Toby.

Her father and Karen just looked concerned.

"You don't have to lie to us, sweetie, we're not going to judge you if you don't."

Oh, yes you are, thought Sarah.

Aloud, she said, "I'm not joking, I really do. His name is Jareth. He's nice."

"Then why aren't you with him?" asked Karen, looking rather concerned.

"He's a teacher," said Sarah, "He's working. But he might call any minute."

There. Not entirely a lie. Not entirely the truth. Her speciality.

"Well, we look forward to meeting him," said her father, looking vaguely delighted.

Shit.

"Maybe another time. We have plans for tonight."

"Well, the moment he calls, you can go," said Karen, probably still trying to call her out on her bullshit. Or not. The two weren't entirely on bad terms, but not exactly shooting on the battlefield. A cold war. A crude, though apt comparison.

But that didn't matter because, fuck, now Sarah would be stuck here all night.

Then, _Smooth Criminal_ started loudly playing in the background.

Gods of cliches and coincidences be thanked.

"And that's him right there," Sarah smirked at Karen. Gotta love small victories.

"Then you should get it."

Sarah did.

"Darling!" she crooned into the device, getting up from the table and quickly escaping from the dining room.

_"Moon of my life! To what do I owe this affection?"_

"Oh, thank god, Jareth, it's actually you," Sarah whispered.

_"I'm confused yet delighted. Listen, I have a favor to ask. I'll shower you in coffee beans for this-"_

"I'll do this for free," Sarah hissed, "Family gathering."

"..._And there I have the reasons for your sudden affection._"

"You know I love you."

_"That's what this plan rests on. I'm going to text to the address of the school I work that-"_

"And to what do I owe this affection?"

_"This is serious! Be there in an hour and look... girlfriendy! I'm getting mobbed here!"_

"Teachers or mothers?"

"_Both! Everybody! Children! This is insane!_"

"Poor Jareth! How did you ever survive?"

_"Luck. Pure luck. And this is my first year actually teaching."_

"No shit?"

"_No shit. I'll tell you all your heart desires and more if you get over here in at least an hour!_"

"Ok. Bye, honey!"

_"My sun and stars-"_

"Do me a favor at least use only one half of the reference."

_"My colleague's really into Game of Thrones and I'm raising my voice whenever she strategically walks past."_

"Bye, Jareth."

_"I'll be at the reception desk at 2pm sharp!"_

"BYE, Jareth."

And Sarah hung up. Stopping by the dining room to get her coat, she practically bounded out the door, yelling, "Gotta go, I've got a date!"

Sarah had the perfect plan that was probably dramatic enough to be absurd. It involved low slung jeans, a shirt more appropriate for a night club than a school, six inch heels, sunglasses, Jareth's jacket, and a hat. Oh, and a heart shaped box of chocolates. And a bouquet of roses. Rising starlet visiting a kindergarten.

Click clacking up to the receptionist, she smiled her most winning smile and said, "Hi, I'm here to see Jareth?"

The receptionist simply looked bored, glaring up from under perfectly plucked black brows.

"Uhuh. Last name?"

Shit. Stab in the dark? Stab in the dark.

"K-" she started.

"King," said a familiar voice from behind her.

"Honey!" grinned Sarah, turning around and throwing her arms around Jareth's neck (magically keeping ahold of the roses and chocolate). The man clutched at her like it was Black Friday and she was the last TV on sale, which is to say passionately, and with an insane gleam in his eye.

"No PDA!" quacked the receptionist, scribbling something on a sticker and throwing it at Sarah.

Jareth grabbed the sticker and frantically pasted it on the lapel of Sarah's jacket. After which he gave it a close look, grabbed Sarah's hand, and tugged her after him.

"What does that say?" she asked, glancing down at the name tag.

"Girlfriend," said Jareth shortly.

"Seriously?"

"Janet's hate for PDA can only be rivaled by her intense dislike for _Rocky Horror Picture Show, _and she didn't have a chance to get your name."

"Alright. You want the flowers now or later?"

"Later. Now, when I count to three, I'm going to need you to kiss me. Full out."

"What?! Why?!"

"Because she bet me thirty bucks that I don't have a girlfriend and that you're my sister. If you kiss me, you can have fifteen."

By this point, the two were out of the main office and almost across the courtyard, on the other side of which sat a lovely set of portable buildings. Which were decorated with an array of colorful hearts and swarming with children. The children were accompanied by their parents, most of them female. A certain portion of the mothers present looked absolutely terrifying, with immeasurable amounts of Botox and designer track suits. Sarah belatedly realized that they were probably the much feared Pack. Jareth slowed down to a walk, making it look like a leisurely, stroll.

"One..."

The Botox gaggle broke off from the main group, tailed by a lovely redhead.

"Two..."

Oh, what the hell. Sarah leaned in and placed her mouth on Jareth's. Really. There isn't a non-awkward way to describe the beginning of their kiss. It was done with surgical precision. Lips to lips. Mouth slightly open. Very by the book. Until Jareth opened his mouth further, and that... That Sarah would have probably done for free.

"Ew! Gross! Some lady's eating Mr. King's face off!"

Gotta love children. Always ruining the nicest moments.

"Which one's Morgan?" asked Sarah, breaking the kiss, cupping Jareth's face, roses and chocolate thoroughly crumpled between them.

"What?" asked the man, carding his fingers through Sarah's hair, looking thoroughly dazed.

"Which one's Morgan?" repeated Sarah, quite pleased with herself.

"Oh. The younger redhead."

"Turn a little. Make it look natural. And don't move away from me or this shit will fall."

She angled them around a bit so that Morgan had a good view of their profile. Reaching down, Sarah grabbed the squished heart shaped box and the rumpled roses and shoved them at Jareth's chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Goblin King."

"And the same to you."

"You owe me fifteen bucks. And a coffee."

"Oh?"

"That was quite the public display of affection."

"Damn. Is money all that motivates you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah noticed Morgan reaching for her wallet. The actress smiled, and gave Jareth another kiss, short and sweet.

Sarah's idea of Valentine's Day had involved chocolate, roses, and at least one naked man.

Chocolate? Check.

Roses? Check?

Naked man? Well, half check.

"What are you talking about? I'd take a bullet for you, valentine."

_**Author's Note:**_

_ Ok, so I wanted to write a dumb, kind of sweet, Valentine's Day chapter. Never mind that that's past. Win some, lose some. That's life. At least I'm being creative, right? _


	12. If Wishes Were Fishes

**If Wishes Were Fishes**

Sarah and Jareth were rather proud of themselves for having survived the small ordeal at the school. Upon returning to their building, they patted themselves on the back and were about to call it a night, but then realized that both of them had the same pathetic Valentine's plans. Which involved mainly getting utterly plastered and eating obscene loads chocolate. So, putting their heads (and resources) together, the two scraped up three bottles, four boxes of chocolate, a Toblerone, and a partridge in a pear tree. Having collected these items, they occupied Sarah's couch, vowing not to move from there except maybe to go to the bathroom. The pair sprawled across it in such a way that their heads were up against one headrest, Sarah on the right and Jareth on the man had arranged his legs so that one was completely off the couch and the other trapped in the crevice between the cushions and the back of the couch. Sarah, on the other hand, had thrown one leg over the couch, and folded her right leg under her. This arrangement was not only anatomically probable, but also quite comfortable.

The TV played in the background, though neither of the two paid it any attention. Alcohol and candy were decidedly more interesting than a late night show. Every once in a while, their conversation would dwindle and they'd sit there in a moment of amicable silence.

"Why aren't you working today?" Sarah asked during one such moment.

"I wish I was, but the manager said not to come in today because they're doing full frontal nudity and there's a guy who will do it for cheeper than I would," Jareth shoved a chocolate in his mouth, "Asshole."

"All's fair in love and war," said Sarah, suddenly feeling philosophical after a couple of glasses, "And stripping, apparently."

"And that's just the way it is," said Jareth, sighing, "Except when it's not, and then you're fucked.."

"Literally?"

"I wish."

"You wish?"

"I haven't gotten laid since..."Jareth drunkenly raised a hand and waved it around, "Since..."

He took a moment to count something out on his fingers.

"...since I moved into this building!" he said triumphantly.

"Neither have I," said Sarah, staring suspiciously at her bottle, then taking a huge drink.

"Since you've moved into this building?"

"Since _you_'_ve _moved into this building."

"Would that have anything to do with my incredible sex appeal?"

"You wish!"

"I do."

Sarah snorted, almost spilling her bottle.

"You," she said, "You. Are a funny man."

Jareth sighed, lolling his head back.

"And you were supposed to be a one night stand."

Sarah put a hand over her heart.

"I'm shocked," she said flatly, "And flattered. Mostly shocked."

Jareth groaned and banged the back of his head on the armrest, "Pass the wine."

"Trade you for the chocolate."

"Deal."

Half sitting up, they managed to pass their respective items across the space between them.

"So does the one night stand thing work for you?" asked Sarah, squinting intently at the box of chocolates, trying to figure out which one was white chocolate. Probably, she decided, the white one.

"Oh, it works beautifully. I chat someone up, they take me home, we have a little sleep over, and I sneak out in the morning and call someone to pick me up. Usually, I threaten Hoggle. Or one of the goblins. My cousins, that is."

"Sounds about like what happened," said Sarah.

"Except with no sex. Or goblins. Or Hoggle."

"Well, Hoggle had some involvement in it."

"Oh, yes. He brought you to the club, didn't he? Whatever for?"

"Character study. And he probably thought I was sexually frustrated."

"Are you?"

"Probably. I've barely got space to breathe, let along do... whatever. Once we get closer to the performance date, it'll get even worse."

"Hmm. You seem to be home a lot, though."

"The theater's having some, ah, technical difficulties."

"As in?"

"The roof fell in. On our stage manager and some of the cast."

A pause.

"Sarah."

"Jareth."

"Are you shitting me."

"I wish."

"You wish?"

"Oh, yes. If wishes were fishes, I'd have a fucking aquarium."

Jareth broke out laughing, and the two faded into an amicable silence.

**xxx**

"You know," said Sarah a couple hours later, as they were falling asleep, chocolate and wine finished, "That was the best Valentines Day I've had in a while."

"Me too, love. Me too."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

_Oh, wow, that took a while. Sorry. I'm probably going to have another chapter up this weekend, and it'll probably be just as short. _


	13. Morning After

There were a couple of things that Sarah just didn't understand. Ok, there were a lot of things Sarah didn't understand. She had a list. And at the very top of that list sat "how can someone who dances at night and teaches children at day get three hours of sleep and still be chipper as fuck."

Now, "chipper as fuck" had different connotations in different situations. Right now, it meant that there Jareth was, in her kitchen, not at all hung over and making breakfast about an hour before any decent person could possibly get up.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he yelled from the kitchen, flipping a pancake.

Sarah lifted her head to to glare and growl angrily, and stopped, staring.

"Sleep well?" asked Jareth, looking a bit too happy. And a bit too shirtless. Why the fuck was he shirtless. More importantly, why the _fuck_ did he look so good shirtless?

"Because, precious, that's what happens when someone takes off their shirt. And to go upside down on that pole is quite a lot of exercise."

Ok, she might have said that out loud.

"Yes, in fact, you did. Breakfast? I made coffee. But drink that glass on the table first. You won't regret it."

"You shouldn't be awake right now," said Sarah, sitting up and eyeing the glass of clear liquid suspiciously.

"On the contrary, I should," said Jareth, starting to make another pancake, "It's around twelve, and Morgan just called me. She's inviting us to go to a late lunch with her and the _consort_."

Jareth drawled out the last word, making a fat caricature of his accent.

"No."

"I haven't gotten to the good part yet."

"No. There is no good part. Stop," said Sarah, keeping her voice completely and utterly flat. That could be _anything _in that glass there.

"Oh, I believe there is. She's paying for it, and-"

"Tempting, but not with this hangover."

"Tsk. Sarah. Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's not good form to interrupt?"

"You're in my kitchen, half naked. Good form got thrown out the window a while ago."

"Really? Then how am I still standing here and not convulsing of blood loss on the pavement outside?"

"Stop being a dick and finish, Goblin King," grumbled Sarah, finally deciding to just chug the contents of the suspicious glass. It was kind of fizzy and relatively bland. Huh.

"Thank you, my lady, for letting me fill this empty space with my unworthy words. Though even those fall from the air like heavy drops of rain in the presence of your beauty, leaving the sky clear and cloudless."

"Fuck you."

"Save the affection for after I get to the point, precious."

Sarah's face flushed red, "Then please, never get to the point."

"Too late. Morgan is offering to pay me forty dollars if you do NOT break up with me by the end of the ordeal."

"And if I do?"

"Then I have to pay her. And I do not at all want to do that."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Can't you just not go?"

"Sarah, let me explain. Morgan might be a teacher, but she's also a trust fund baby. The Consort's rich. So are Morgan's parents. Both of the endowed parties have a passion of the arts. We are artists. Do you understand where this is going?"

"Vaguely. And that is not a good enough reason to use the word endowed."

"Politics aren't quite your forte, are they? Where this is going is that they have a habit of introducing their friends to rich people who are actually successful in the arts. Believe it or not, there is a day when I would like to not have to work extra to pay the bills. And I believe you would quite like to work somewhere where the roof doesn't fall in."

"I call bullshit," said Sarah, standing up.

Jareth sighed, "You're right. I just want to gloat over Morgan and win twenty dollars. The free lunch helps."

Sarah thought about it. She shifted from left to right and put on her best thinking face for the benefit of her shirtless audience of one.

"Does that first part of the speech even count as politics?"

Jareth waved that statement away, "No matter. Are you in or not?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Jareth smiled slightly, "Not really, no. I have a lot of songs you haven't heard yet and a _very_ loud voice."

That alone made the prospect of not going seem even more appealing, but...

Sarah sighed, "When are we supposed to be there?"

"...Around one thirty."

The actress looked at the clock. Then back at Jareth. Then back at the clock. Then back at- well, you get the picture.

"We have forty minutes," she growled.

"Better hurry then," said Jareth, no less cheerfully.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

_So there wasn't a chapter this past weekend. I have an essay due, and the semester's coming to a close, so... It's busy. Mainly, I just wrote this to procrastinate writing my essay._  
_That was probably disappointing, considering what the title was... _  
_Umm, tune in next time, whenever that may be, to find out exactly how their date goes. I don't know how that's going to turn out yet, but it should be interesting! _


	14. Dates and Raisin' Eyebrows

"Jareth."

"Yes, precious?"

"First off, stop calling me precious, you sound like the fucking Gollum."

"Your wish is my command."

"Second..." Sarah gave her friend a suspicious up-and-down, "You look like a stripper."

"And I am a stripper. Your logic is flawless."

Sarah threw her head back and glared pointedly at the sky, "I don't know you."

"Oh, yes you do," said Jareth smugly, "I'm your date."

"Fuck you."

"Right here, right now? _Precious._"

Sarah stared off into the distance, putting on her best when-will-my-husband-return-from-the-war face. Jareth smiled a self satisfied little smile and patted down the excessive ruffles on his shirt. The pair had been standing outside of the designated restaurant for at least five minutes. It was a nice day in the middle of a rather quiet, hipster sort of section of town. Shops, art galleries, cafes, and restaurants snuggled side by side along a narrow street. Holiday lights were strung between the buildings, so they netted across the street. Probably a left over from Christmas, though they could have been a regular instalation.

Sarah and Jareth were in front of one particularly pretentious looking food place, trying to look like they belonged. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Jareth had been asked "how much?" at least twice.

Really, Jareth's entire outfit was rather... much. His frilly white poets shirt with a cleavage going down practically to his belly button was probably the most... problematic part of the outfit. The too tight jeans and high heeled boots didn't help much. Nor did the random splashes of glitter all over, making it look vaguely like he'd grabbed handfuls of glitter and tossed them at his face. Which was exactly what had happened, but nobody needed to know.

Sarah looked quite tame in comparison. She'd gone, quite wisely, with the timeless little black dress and heels, and had managed to bullshit the traditional "femme fetale" look. Which, she'd realized upon arrival, was still too much for the rather casual situation. People were staring, and it didn't help that over the car ride here, some of the glitter had gotten on her. Ok, a lot of the glitter. She was practically the glitter queen.

"We look like something out of a cartoon," Sarah said, pulling out a little round mirror out of her purse too make sure that her bright red lipstick was still in place.

"At least we look like a couple," said Jareth, looking completely comfortable in his skin and his outfit.

"Only because the last twenty people we saw were wearing plaid," Sarah muttered, crossing her arms and glaring around, "Why are we standing here anyways?"

"Because this is an excellent vantage point from which we can see the entire street from here and Morgan and the Consort can't escape us this way."

"Who can't escape what now?" came a smooth, mild, female voice from behind Jareth's back.

A shadow of panic flitted across Jareth's face, so brief that Sarah barely noticed it, as it was quickly covered up with the stripper smile. Behind Jareth stood two women, a blonde and a redhead, hand in hand. Both were dressed simply, if stylishly, and Sarah only recognized one of them from their brief meeting the day before.

"Morgan!" Jareth exclaimed, pivoting around on his four inch heels, "How delightful it is to see you! Sarah, I don't believe you two have been officially introduced. This is Morgana Fay-"

"Just Morgan," said the woman easily, sizing up the couple in front of her.

"Just Morgan, then. She has red hair and opinions. That's the Consort."

"I have a name, you know," said the other woman, sounding mildly annoyed.

Jareth raised an eyebrow.

Morgan rolled her eyes, "This is my wife, Titania."

"I go by Tanya, thanks."

Sarah smiled and murmured to herself, "Then I must be thy lady: but I know when thou has stol'n away from fairy-land, and in the shape of Corin sat all day-"

"And that's exactly why," said Tanya sharply, cutting her off, "I have enough butchered Shakespeare at school to deal with it outside of that."

"Butchered Shakespeare?" Sarah inquired, rather stonily. Practically a mortal offense, there.

"I teach a course on Shakespeare in the local high school."

Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side, eying the regal lady up, "Worst decision of your life?"

"Other than this date, yes."

"Ooh," Jareth, seeming enraptured in the look of his nails, drawled out, "Burn."

Tanya shrugged, "I should be grading papers."

Morgan glared at her, "Honey, we both needed some time off."

"With your friends from the mental hospital?"

Jareth clutched at his chest, looking mortally wounded, "I will have you know that we've never been institutionalized!"

"Speak for yourself," Sarah muttered, crossing her arms.

Morgan smiled apologetically, "She's just cranky because I pulled her away from her valuable sleeping time."

"I need my beauty sleep, Morgan," said Tanya.

"Shut up. You're gorgeous even after an all nighter."

"You flatter me."

"This isn't flattery yet."

Jareth and Sarah exchanged a glance.

Sarah mouthed "Goddamn married couples." at Jareth, who made a face in return.

"If you're done flirting," said Jareth, turning to the two women, "Would you be so kind as to accompany us inside?"

The married couple grumbled, but agreed.

**xxx**

The game of Gestapo started shortly after they sat down.

"So, Sarah," said Morgan, ever so sweetly, "How long have you known Jareth?"

Tanya rolled her eyes and muttered something at her menu.

"A couple of months now," said Sarah, matching her tone exactly.

"And how long have you two been dating?"

"Oh, a couple of months now."

Tanya snorted, earning a glare from her wife. Jareth looked vaguely concerned.

"So how's your porn career going?" asked Morgan nonchalantly, waving over a waiter.

If Sarah was drinking water, she'd have choked on it. Well, if she was a good ten years younger and utterly naïve, she would have. But years of theater experience, the fact that this wasn't the first time in the last month that she had been asked that question, and a general disillusionment with society stopped her from being even the least bit surprised.

"Oh no," she said, deadpanned, "Who told you?"

"It wasn't me," said Jareth in much the same manner, not looking up from his menu.

"Of course it wasn't you. Not that you don't have the balls, but I'm sure you wouldn't want competition."

The waiter looked vaguely distraught, but nonetheless put on a smile and fired out the customary speech, "Hi I'm Steve I'll be your waiter today what would you like I'd recommend the chicken pesto combination it's very nice."

"I'll have that then," said Sarah

Morgana looked a little put out.

After the waiter hurried off, Tanya turned to Sarah and grinned, "On second thought, I like you."

"Let's work on making that feeling mutual."

"I'll have to write that one down."

"Tanya, stop fraternizing with the enemy!"

"So you DID drag me here for a stupid bet! And let me guess! You're paying?"

Jareth smiled blissfully as the two started arguing, and leaned over to put his head on Sarah's shoulder.

"I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu," he said.

**xxx**

"Ok, but all joking aside, what do you do?" asked Morgan, taking a dainty bite of her pizza.

"I'm an actress."

Tanya looked mortified, "Shakespeare?"

"If it's available."

"That explains why you're pissed off."

"Yes."

Tanya laughed. Morgan looked utterly pissed off and downed another glass of wine.

"Woah, slow down there, fair maiden," said Jareth snidely, "What would the school think of your drinking habit?"

"What would you think about your smoking habit?" spat out Morgan.

Sarah cast the woman a sidelong glance, "Is she always that bitter?"

Tanya smirked, "That's just how she communicates. The more snide remarks she makes, the more she likes you. You should have heard her after our wedding."

"No, thank you," said Sarah curtly, and pretended to be really interested in her pasta.

Morgan sighed, looking slightly put out, "So, what are you working on right now, Sarah?"

"Um," said Sarah, trying to figure out a way to word this, "It's a post-modernist, glam rock, take on the traditional story of Cinderella, experimenting with gender and sexuality, and introducing an eye opening shock factor."

Tanya raised her eyebrows. If someone raised another one of those that evening, they might fly away and start their own civilization.

"What she means," said Jareth, pretending to look rather bored, "Is that some brilliant mind decided to crossbreed Rocky Horror Picture Show and Cinderella, and came up with this monstrosity."

"It's not that bad," protested Sarah.

Jareth cast her a withering look, then shrugged, "I admit. The script was decent. I particularly enjoyed the part where the evil stepmother tears off her gown and breaks into a burlesque sort of song and dance number."

"Hmmm..." Sarah hummed, "You're right, that was... interesting."

Wordlessly, Morgan slid over two twenty dollar bills.

**xxx**

Upon exiting the restaurant two hours later and terrorizing some tourists, the group decided that it was an evening well spent. Tanya told Morgan to pretend that the lost forty dollars was payment for the show that came with the dinner.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_So obviously, this was grossly overdue. What can I say. School year's coming to a close, it's a hassle to keep grades up... A lot of things happened. But here it is now, so, you know, all's well that ends well. Except this isn't the end. I still have ideas for a good... oh, four chapters?  
I am, unfortunately, getting less creative with the titles. So if anyone has any suggestions, for titles or just utterly random ideas, I'm all up for considering those. Enjoy._


	15. 3 in 1 Fic (To Say Nothing of the Dog)

**Three in One Fic (To Say Nothing of the Dog)**

At this point in Sarah's life, a venn diagram of the things she didn't much expect to happen and the things that had happened would be a circle. Frankly, she'd stopped being surprised after the linguini incident, which is why she didn't even blink when Jareth casually dropped the question one day.

"Sarah?"

The woman glanced up to see a pair of mismatched eyes gazing soulfully into her own. They sparkled like a pair of jewels that had been recently sprayed with a hose. She went back to sorting through her mail.

"Yes, Jareth?"

"My love? My precious?"

"Yeah?"

"The diamond of my life? The crown jewel of my existence?"

"Uh..."

"My queen, my ladylove, my one and only in this world?"

"_What?!_"

"Would you marry me?"

A pause, punctuated with Sarah's suspicious glare and and a lot of questioning hand motions.

"Tax benefits," Jareth said as a way of explanation.

"Those aren't due for at least two more months."

"Early bird gets the worm."

"Oh, what the hell, let's tie the knot!"

"My life has been made, my heart healed! Let us gallivant into the sunset on the wings of lawful tax evasions!"

"And I will have a giant puffy ballgown, and my hair will look like it weighs at least thirty pounds with all the trinkets I'll stuff in it, like someone's familial spoon!"

"And I will have a suit of sapphires! We'll get married in Venice and honeymoon back in the old country."

"That's a little bit unrealistic. I mean, you work at least five jobs and I'm an actress."

"You take all the fun out of things."

"I know. I thrive off of telling children that Santa's not real."

"You cruel monster, crushing all those hopes and dreams..."

"Thanks. But all joking aside, we're not getting married."

"Damn."

"Also, the Easter Bunny is actually Satan."

"Excuse me?"

**xxx**

"Hey, Jareth, I need to go pick up a- Oh my God."

"No, not God, but close."

"What... is that?"

"This little thing? Just something I pulled out from the depths of my closet."

Sarah stared at the knit one piece, with stripes and waves and designs all over. The whole thing covered him from arms to left leg and looked like Picasso had decided to have a go at Charlie Brown's sweater and got distracted.

Furthermore, the man was doing yoga. On her living room floor. Sarah didn't know that that sort of compromising position was physically possible. Jareth lifted his right leg, bare of the jumpsuit, even further above his head. Ok. Ok. Definitely physically possible.

"Impressed?"

Sarah looked down to see the man smirking at her.

"Um..." she cleared her throat, feeling herself blush a little as he rearranged himself into a Downwards Dog, "Yes. Very. I'm leaving now. Would like to leave?"

"Are you inviting me to go with you to wherever it is you're going?"

Sarah stared.

"Precious, my eyes are down here."

"No. Yes. If you change. Please change."

Jareth snorted, uncurling himself and gracefully rising to his feet, "You youngsters just don't get true fashion."

"You're the same age as me!" Sarah yelled as Jareth waltzed out the door.

"How old are you?" the man hollered from the other side of the hall.

"Twenty six!"

"I'm five years older than you!"

"What?!"

"I age well, don't I?"

Sarah tried to come up with a witty come back Miraculously, someone else saved her the trouble and embarrassment.

"Cradle robber!" screeched an old female voice.

"Thank you for your input, Mrs. Beckley, go talk to your cats!" Jareth yelled back.

"You're going to Hell!"

"I know, Mrs. Beckley! That's where all the good music is!"

**xxx**

The entire car ride, Jareth sulked. Mainly, this was because Sarah had made him change at least three times. The man went from clown to geisha to evil overlord of all that can be seen to something that looked a little more normal. Granted, he still looked insane and regal and very very strange, but in a way that wouldn't get him mugged in the first dark alley. And if Sarah hadn't found that in itself hilarious, the fact that the closer they got to the destination, the more panicky Jareth got was the funniest thing she'd seen all day.

"Sarah, where are we going?"

Silence.

"Sarah."

"Sarah, this neighborhood looks familiar."

"Sarah..."

"Sarah, I will count to three."

The actress grinned and made a right.

"One. Two. Three. Where the fuck are we?"

Sarah stopped the car.

"Oh, no. No no no. This is-"

Paying no attention to the eccentric in the passenger's seat, Sarah got out of the car and started walking, forcing Jareth to scramble out of the car before the lock clicked shut.

"I demand we turn back at once!"

"Sorry, your highness! You're the one that wanted to come."

"Not here! Damn it, slow down! I'm wearing heals!"

"I've seen you dance in ones higher than that, you can catch up," Sarah said, halting in front of a dainty little townhouse.

"And yet you stop!"

"Well of course," she said, "We're here."

Jareth sighed and put on his bitchiest face, "What are we doing here, anyways?"

Sarah just smiled and knocked on the door.

A small racket came from the other side and after a few long moments, the door finally swung open, revealing an angry looking dwarf.

"Took ya long enough," he growled, wiping something wet off of his face.

"Sorry, Hoggle," Sarah said, "May we come in?"

"We? Oh. It's you."

"Hello, Hogwart."

"Hoggle."

"Whatever."

Sarah rolled her eyes and stepped inside, tossing her coat onto a chair, "Where is he?"

"Locked in the bedroom," muttered Hoggle, "What did you bring _him_ along for?"

"We're neighbors," said Jareth sweetly.

"We're dating," corrected Sarah, shooting him a glare.

Hoggle raised an eyebrow, "So which one is it?"

"Both," chorused the two visitors.

The dwarf snorted, "Bullshit."

"Think what you want," shrugged Jareth, walking across the living room to inspect a huge red vase in a corner, "What is this thing? You've redecorated. It's disgusting."

Hoggle glared, "That was my grandmother's!"

"Your grandmother's what? Urn? She's not still inside, is she?"

"You-"

"Boys," called Sarah, "Save the pissing contest for later. If your goal is to get on Santa's naughty list, do I have some bad news for you."

Jareth sighed and looked down at Hoggle, "Was she always like this?"

"Not until the middle of freshman year," said Hoggle, "Ask her about it. She tells it better."

"Oh, shut up and just get the dog," said Sarah amicably.

Jareth turned to stare at her.

"Dog?" he said.

Hoggle grinned, "Oh, yes, Jareth. Dog. Let me go get him right now, actually. You two talk."

Jareth heaved a sigh and the two of them stood in utter silence for about a minute, simply looking around the room.

"You're right," said Sarah, sitting down on what appeared to be a bedazzled armchair.

"Really? About what?"

"He redecorated. And it's terrible."

"Absolutely horrid."

"I know. Right up your alley."

"Sarah!"

**xxx**

"Hello," crooned Sarah, "I haven't seen you in a while. Oh, look how cute you are!"

"Hoggle," said Jareth, looking utterly disgusted, "What is that thing sitting at your feet?"

"What? That? Oh, that. That's Ludo."

"He's at least three times bigger than you. How do you keep him?"

"He used to be smaller," Sarah said, cuddling the giant, red, dog to her chest, "He' just grown a little, haven't you, Ludo?"

The dog made an appreciative wailing sound. Jareth looked scared and a little concerned.

"Will anyone," he said, "Explain to me exactly what is going on here?"

"Hoggle's going off to visit his family and I've offered to dog sit."

Jareth stared at the goliath dog. The animal cocked his head and gave him a lopsided smile.

"Bloody fucking Jesus in a miniskirt."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Took me a bit, but here it is. The title's a rip off of Three Men In a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) and a bad one at that, but it works for what I wanted to do here. The actual chapter title is messed up because of the character count, so I wrote it out at the top for full effect. Yeah._

_Tune in next time to find out exactly how Jareth and Ludo get along and why is Sarah not quite as naive as her canon counterpart! Questions, comments, and concerns are appreciated._


	16. Mother Dearest

It was a lazy sort of Saturday, a rare day when neither Sarah nor Jareth were working. Unfortunately, neither was the heating system in the apartment building. This set up resulted in the two of them huddling together in Sarah's apartment, because she was the one here with the space heater and an ungodly amount of blankets. And Ludo. Who, depending on which one of our protagonists you asked, was either a blessing or a curse.

"Sarah. Sarah, the beast is harassing me. Make it stop."

The actress looked up from a folder titled "Theater Shit: Cinderella Edition" to see the dog sprawled across Jareth's lap. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but the dog was so gigantic that Jareth had a hard time reaching over him for the papers that he was looking at.

"He likes you," she said, and went back to reading.

Jareth cast her a desperate look, "But I'm _grading_."

"A trying task, I'm sure."

Ludo whuffed.

_"Sarah."_

"That's my name. Don't wear it out."

"Oh, come on. This is my main job we're talking about here!"

"You're putting stickers on crayon drawings of the solar system. That's hardly taxing."

"Trust me, I've considered assigning ten page papers on the subject of Nietzsche's views of Christianity, but I believe the parents would have protested."

"And the parents don't protest about your career on a pole?"

"What the parents know won't hurt them."

"And your coworkers?"

"They believe I've been spending passionate evenings with my girlfriend and that we're madly in love."

Sarah hummed to herself, "Valentine's Day must have been a convincing act."

"Oh, yes. They keep asking when you're going to propose."

"Me?"

"I showed up to school in bright pink nail polish one day. Of course they think you wear the pants in this relationship."

"Considering you're hogging most of my couch with that dress you have on, I'm not surprised."

"It's a nice dress and you're jealous. Besides, your dog is 'hogging' the rest of it, so you have no right to complain."

"That's Hoggle's dog."

"Potato, tomato, or however that saying goes."

Both of them shut up. Jareth went back to maneuvering around Ludo to stick apple stickers onto messy pictures and Sarah continued reading the tiny scrawl of stage directions. The clock ticked and the heater whirred, and it was quite a while before either of them saw any reason to break the silence.

"Jareth?"

"Precious?"

"Call me that again and I will punch you."

"Aye aye, sir."

"Damn straight. Anyways, I was wondering... What would happen if the school did find out that you're a... you know."

"A part time stripper and a drag queen?"

"Yeah."

"No need to be delicate. It's a fair question. There's two options. Either I'd get fired and beg to move in with you because teaching is what's paying my rent, or daddy dearest would smooth things over and I'd be let off with a warning."

Sarah perked up, "Daddy dearest?"

"Yes," said Jareth, carefully putting another sticker on a shitty drawing of the sun as a Jedi, "He's stupidly rich and currently lives here in the States with his sister, my aunt. They've a house just outside the city in the middle of nowhere. I don't live off of their money because being a stripper and a kindergarten teacher is bad enough, being a thirty-one year old living with his family is even worse."

"So you're the black sheep of the family?" Sarah smirked.

"I doubt I'll accomplish that as long as my mother's alive. I believe she's somewhere in Germany, although I can't be sure. She hasn't called for months."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I changed my phone number just for that. For good reason, too. She's overprotective, eccentric, and always has her head up her-"

And here the song "Boss Ass Bitch" started playing loudly out of Jareth's phone.

"Oh for fuck's sake, get Clifford off me, I have to get that!"

"Never," grinned Sarah, flipping a page.

After a bit of struggling, Jareth finally got Ludo off of him by throwing a pillow across the room and screaming "Fetch!" Unfortunately, by the time that he'd stumbled off of the couch, the phone stopped ringing. He muttered something under his breath and was about to settle back down when the tone started up again, even more vigorously than before. Grabbing his phone, he slid his thumb across the screen and jerked it up to his ear.

"What?" he growled.

Sarah glanced up just in time to see Jareth's expression shift from one of agitation to pure horror. She grinned and mouthed, "Ex?"

Jareth scowled at Sara, schooled his features into a morosely pleasant expression and said, "Hello, mother. Believe it or not, I was just talking about you. No. Really. Of _course_ I talk about you, you're my favorite mother!"

Sarah had to bite her lip to keep from laughing

"I know, that's why the joke is funny," Jareth started pacing up and down the length of the room. Ludo whined and went over to sit at Sarah's feet. The woman absentmindedly started petting the animal, keeping all her attention on her neighbor.

"A family reunion? Oh, you're in the States! How unexpected!" he looked at Sarah and mouthed 'motherfucker.'

"No, that's your dad," the actress said out loud, delighted at the renewed panic on Jareth's face.

"What? That's nobody. I know it sounds like a woman, it's just the radio. _No, it's not that nice Jenkins boy. _You know I broke up with him a year ago, right? No, it's not a one night stand. No, I will not give her the phone. Mother... Mum... Yes, ma'am."

Looking pissed as all hell, he trudged over to Sarah and thrust the phone out to her, "My mother wants to speak to you. No matter what she says, only call her Tina and don't give her any blackmail material to use against me. Or you, for that matter."

Delicately, Sarah took the phone and put it to her ear like it was a loaded gun.

"Hello?"

_"Hello, love," _a woman's voice purred.

"Hello," Sarah said, slowly this time, and shot a glare at Jareth.

_"Who are you and what to you want with my son?"_

"Well, ma'am..." Sarah said, quickly scribbling out 'neighbor/gf?' out on the margin of her script. After a moment's thought, Jareth jabbed a finger at 'gf,' "I'm his girlfriend."

Silence. Then, _"Give the phone back to my son."_

Sarah held the phone out to Jareth, who recoiled from it before accepting his fate.

"Yes, mother?"

_"JARETH DAVID LUCINDA KING, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE ON A DATE?"_

Jareth winced and moved the phone away from his ear, "I'm not. We're just sitting around, doing nothing much. Sarah. Her name's Sarah. What? Is she pregnant?!" he looked at Sarah, who shook her head, "Mother, we haven't even had sex yet!"

Pause.

"Just because we haven't had sex doesn't mean it's serious, we're taking it slow... No, I don't need to be reminded of that time. Or that time. Or that time. Or any other relationship ever! When's the wedding?!"

Jareth was starting to sound downright panicked.

"Mother! We just started dating! How long ago?"

Sarah raised up four fingers. Jareth desperately shook his head. Sarah nodded and jabbed her hand out again.

"Four months," he said unenthusiastically, "No, I'm not bringing her. She has... work! She has work! Give the phone t- No, mother. Mother. No. No! ...Fine."

The two exchanged the phone again.

"She wants you at the reunion," said Jareth, looking rather grim, "There's no way around it. Try to prolong the inevitable. Or don't. Remember. No blackmail material. Now go."

"Ma'am?" Sarah said politely.

_"Hi! Sarah, isn't it?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

_"Oh, you're so formal, just call me mother!"_

"I'm not sure I could, ma'am."

_"I guess we'll have to take baby steps, then... Call me Tina."_

"Hello, Tina."

_"That's better. I'm sorry if I was rude before. You have to understand, a mother does all she can for her darling baby."_

"With all due respect, he's thirty-one."

_"And he'll always be my child. Anyways, I understand you've been dating for a while now?"_

"Not really. Our four month anniversary is next week."

Jareth frantically shook his head.

"On Monday," Sarah said quickly, "Next week on Monday. It's such a shame that we're both working."

Jareth gave her an approving nod.

_"Well, in Jareth's book, that's practically a life time. When's the baby due?"_

"Baby?" Sarah laughed, "We're taking it slow. Both of us are really busy and your son's a little old fashioned. Holding doors open, pulling out ch-"

_"Old fashioned? Ha! He's a stripper!"_

"I know, that's how we met. He's good, too."

"Stripper?" Jareth whispered.

Sarah nodded. Jareth let out a breath, visibly relaxing and flopping down on a nearby chair.

_"Damn, I was hoping that would send you running,"_ Tina joked. Probably.

"I'm an actress. It takes more than that to drive me away."

_"Then you'd brave a little family gathering for him?"_

Sarah almost let out a laugh, "Damn, you're good."

Jareth tensed up again.

_"I know. So are you really busy or is my son just a coward?"_

"I'll have to check my schedule," she said, "When is it?"

_"Next Saturday to Sunday."_

"Two days?"

_"Yes, and you'd get to stay at the mansion!"_

"Mansion?"

_"Oh, so you're not a gold digger?"_

"No, I'm dating him for his charming personality."

Silence.

_"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not and I respect that."_

"Thank you."

_"So you're free?"_

"Probably. Theater's closed for maintenance those says, so..."

_"What, did someone say Macbeth on stage?"_

"Yes."

_"I did not expect an answer to that question. I might like you. Give the phone to Jareth."_

Sarah slid the phone across the table to Jareth, "She said she might like me."

"I can't tell if that's good or bad," muttered Jareth, putting the phone to his ear, "Yes, mother? No. Maybe. Mother! Yes, we'll be there next weekend. No, I'm not going to let you rope me into proposing. Yes, I'm repeating everything so Sarah can hear me. Yes. I know. I love you, mum. Bye. Yes. I know. Please hang up now. Good bye. Yes. Bye."

Jareth sighed deeply and slammed the phone down on the table.

"My parents think we're dating now," he said glumly.

"But we only talked to your mom."

"Trust me when I say she speaks for both of them. My father's a lot nicer than she is, by the way. My aunt is a nightmare, though. I hope you're ready."

"I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for your family."

"I'm so sorry. You're my only... friend... here. If they scare you away, I might just lose it."

"Girlfriend, Jareth," Sarah grinned, "I'm your girlfriend. And I'm doing this for free. Because we're dating."

"Not really-"

"No. Repeat after me. We're dating."

"We're dating."

"We're madly in love and we're dating."

"We're madly in love and we're dating."

"You love me passionately and I am the most important thing in the world to you."

"Yes."

"What?"

"I love you passionately and you mean the world to me," he said, putting a hand on her knee and looking her straight in the eyes.

Sarah clapped him on the back, feeling her heart do a somersault and her face redden a little bit, "That's the spirit!"

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**_Wow, I've been wanting to write about Jareth's family forever, but was saving it for the end of the fic. Fortunately (or unfortunately), plans changed and the end has run away to set up shop somewhere on the horizon. I've come to the scary realization that this fic can literally go on almost forever until I get bored of it and decide to end it. Damn.  
On a different note, I'm becoming more and more fond of casually slipping Bowie references in here. Expect an entire chapter about a red mullet sometime soon._


	17. Functionally Dysfunctional, Part 1

"You know, when she said mansion, I thought she just meant a very large house," said Sarah thoughtfully, getting out of the driver's seat.

"That is the definition of mansion, yes," said Jareth, sliding out of the car and wrapping himself up in a leather trench coat.

"Ha ha. This is the sort of thing you see in blatantly CGIed movies."

"Wait until you see the Escher Room," said Jareth, avoiding looking at the house as much s possible, "It's a nightmare."

"Escher Room?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. Escher Room. Mother's an architect. She was going through a phase. Do you want me to take your bags?"

"No, I can-"

"I'm taking your bags."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Don't be a pussy, Jareth."

"Precious, I'm not being a pussy, I'm being a gentleman."

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes, "Come here."

"What?"

"Come here."

"But, bags-"

The trunk beeped open, "Get them and come here."

Jareth trudged over, hoisted the whole lot onto his shoulders, and went to stand in front of Sarah.

"Well?" he said.

"Closer."

Jareth leaned forward.

"Closer."

He leaned forward a bit more.

"Closer."

"If I lean forward anymore, I'll kiss you."

"No, you still have a couple of centimeters. Closer"

Jareth sighed, but obeyed. Sarah slapped him.

"Ow!"

"Do _not_ call me precious. I am not some sort of... commodity. Or ring."

"It's an endearment! As in, you're the most precious thing in this world."

"Then I have the right to call you by your stripper name."

"Please don't. The children would question it."

"Children?"

"Yes. Can I move now?"

"Hm?"

"Am I allowed to move now, your majesty?"

"No."

Sarah leaned over and kissed Jareth softly on the lips, "Ok. Now you can move."

The man took this as an excuse to lean forward and return the kiss, deepening it. Sarah stepped closer and slipped one arm around his waist and the other 'round his neck, pulling him closer.

'What's a little kiss between friends?' was a question Sarah found herself asking more and more often. The man knew exactly what he was doing, and while it didn't blank out her mind or make her fall all over him like in a romance novel, it was certainly very pleasant. Very pleasant. Emphasis on pleasant. And also on very. And on his tongue.

"Do you think we should throw rice at 'em?" someone whispered.

Jareth broke free with a roll of his eyes and a muttered curse. Sarah mentally took note of it. A couple of steps away stood four children of varying ages.A little one, a large one, and two identical ones. The youngest looked vaguely ten, the oldest around fourteen.

"No," said the youngest, sticking his hands in his pockets, "That's weddings."

"Hello, goblins," said Jareth.

"Hello, Uncle Jareth," they chorused, rather unevenly.

"Whose she?" asked one of the (and Sarah was going out on a limb here) twins.

"I'm Sarah."

"We saw her slap you," said the youngest, "Is that a BDSM thing?"

Jareth looked exasperated and pissed off, "No! I-"

Sarah almost felt sorry for him as the children's eyes lit up with new blackmail material.

"Your Uncle was being an asshole," she explained, patting Jareth's cheek, "So I slapped him. However, he's very pretty, so I kissed him after that."

"Sarah, you say the nicest things."

The eldest narrowed her eyes at the couple. Sarah was still hugging Jareth around the waist.

"Do we have to call you aunt?" she asked suspiciously.

"I hope not," said Sarah, "Just call me Sarah."

The girl nodded and turned around towards the giant doors of the house, "Grandma's waiting."

"We still have to get a couple of things," said Sarah, "We'll catch up in a bit."

The children bought it and scrammed.

"I didn't know you had a sister!" hissed Sarah.

"I don't!" said Jareth quietly.

"Brother?"

"No. I do, however, have a two cousins. Both of which have an astonishing amount of children. I have no clue why they call me uncle, but they do."

"That's... good," said Sarah.

"Why?"

"Siblings are scarier than parents. Parents aim for humiliation and a break up. Siblings _maim_."

Jareth barked out a short laugh, "Oh, wait till you mean my cousins. Welcome to the Addams family."

"Your last name is King."

"A small nuance. Easily fixed."

"I look forward to it."

"Great. Now take this bag, my shoulder's killing me."

"Only if you get Ludo out of the back seat."

"Shit. I'll trade you."

"Too late."

"Shit."

* * *

**Author's Note:**_  
And so starts the family reunion. Off to a good beginning, don't you think?  
Freshman year, Jenkins boy, and a so far unpredicted thing should get resolved during the family reunion, which will go on for a couple of chapters. Didymus is going to be addressed later. Before Sarah's family gathering. Other ideas so far include kareoke and Shakespeare jokes at Tanya's expense.  
And yes. Yes, someone has totally raided David Bowie's old closet.  
Also, I would just like to say that without the author's notes, this fic is currently 20029 words long. Something I definitely was not expecting, as it started out as a small, four chapter, crack fic. _


	18. Functionally Dysfunctional: The Mother

The Kings' house was absolutely gorgeous and disgustingly huge. Practically Victorian, it was dark and elegant and absolutely gorgeous. When asked about it later, Sarah would say that nothing she could think of would do the description justice.

Jareth, however, didn't have that problem, past, present, or future.

"Two words. Hell. Hole," he told Sarah as they walked through the double doors, Ludo trotting behind them. Immediately, they found themselves in a large, open, marble tiled space, with a couple of fancy chandeliers and a staircase that split into two smaller ones on the far end, across from the door. Everything was pristinely clean, shiny, and either in a shade of white, silver, or gold. Basically, it was Mr. Clean's wet dream.

"Now, now, Jareth," called a mild, feminine, vaguely posh voice, "Is that any way to talk of your parents home?"

Sarah tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

"It's the only way to talk of your parents home, mother," said Jareth, "You're looking well."

And then Sarah spotted the speaker. On the top of the staircase stood a woman that was the embodiment of the color white in every stereotypical way possible. Her skin was so white it was practically see-through. Her hair was so white it was practically see-through. Her dress was definitely see-through, probably inappropriately so. In fact, if she was any more ethereally see-through, she'd fade away into the nothingness. She looked like she'd glow under black light. Once you saw her, you couldn't unsee her, like a mental puzzle. Or an uncomfortable shadow. The one thing that stood out was her eyes, piercing and gray. Kind of like Jareth's. The family resemblance was definitely there. A sort of ethereal quality that Sarah would probably notice in Jareth if she hadn't seen him at three in the morning, drunk off his ass, screaming for toilet paper.

"You're looking cute," the woman shot back, gliding down towards them.

"Thank you, mother?"

"I meant the dog. And is this Sarah?"

"Yes," said Sarah, "This is Sarah. Sarah says hello."

"Oh, no," Jareth's mother groaned, "You've been around my son for too long."

"This is your 'Get out while you still can' speech," said Jareth.

"No. This is the 'when is the wedding' speech. Now go. Find an empty room and occupy it. Just make sure it has one bed in it. What are you waiting for? Go! Not everyone's here yet, and I have more people to terrify. Leave the dog. I like him."

**xxx**

"I know where you get it from now," said Sarah as they unpacked (in a one bed room).

"Get what?" asked Jareth, tossing a pair of pants onto a chair.

"Your asshole tendencies."

"Oh. Yes. Definitely."

"Any deep set issues there?"

"Not at all. We love each other, that's just how we communicate."

"Hmm."

They unpacked in silence for a little while before Sarah spoke up again.

"She looks way too young."

"A mix of Botox, genetics, and black magic."

"Is that what you use, too?"

"Minus the Botox, yes."

"Scary."

"Terrifying."

* * *

**Author's Note:**_  
__I decided to cut this out of the next chapter because I feel like Jareth's mother is a force of her own and as such, deserves her own chapter. Of sorts.  
__Next up, lunch with the family. Basically, this is going to be a whole lot of snippets._


	19. Functionally Dysfunctional: Lunch

Lunch went as expected. Which is to say, it was fucking insane in the quietest way possible.

One thing that Sarah had never had the chance to get used to were giant family gatherings. Her own amounted to six people, maybe ten if you really wanted to push it. This? This was something else entirely.

"How many people would you say there are here?" asked Jareth cheerfully, spooning mashed potatoes onto first Sarah's plate, then his.

"I don't know."

"Give it a guess."

"At least five."

"Well, you're not wrong."

Of course, Sarah wasn't wrong. There were at least five people at the reunion, much in the same way that there's at least one bird in a gaggle of migrating geese.

The tables for lunch were set up in the back yard. Which was less of a yard and more of a pasture, but nobody cared to make that distinction. And yes, tables in the multiple. There were five. Five tables. Which took a while for Sarah to properly process. Jareth's family was big enough to require five rather large tables, and yet she'd only seen five since her arrival. That impression had only lasted until someone screeched "LUNCH!"

As if by magic, people started flooding into the pasture and settling down, pushing and yelling and talking. Among them were the four who had greeted them on the driveway, as well as the asshole who had accidentally left with Jareth's shit back when they first got acquainted.

"So do we just sit anywhere?" asked Sarah suspiciously, keeping close to Jareth's right side.

"In theory."

"And in practice?"

"Well..."

**xxx**

"Jareth, please explain to me what we're doing under the table."

"This is the only way to stay clear."

"Stay clear of what?"

"Shut up and eat your potatoes."

**xxx**

"Mum! I found Uncle Jareth! He's under the snack tables!"

"Caleb, I will PAY you to go away."

"Mum's already paying me to find you."

"How much?"

"Ten bucks."

Jareth sighed.

"Sarah," he said carefully, "Do you have a fiver?"

Sarah didn't.

**xxx**

"...and then I said to Dane, 'Stop pissing on the petunias!'"

The adults at the table tittered and giggled. The teenagers looked like they were ready to commit seppuku with a butter knife. Jareth looked much the same. Sarah just wanted to make someone stop piling potatoes onto her plate.

"Well, love, it's your turn now," someone said, gently patting Sarah's arm.

The actress was forced to look up and straight into the eyes of another blond, blue eyed, wrinkled, trophy wife.

"What?"

"I told an embarrassing story about my boyfriend. Gaia, Pansy, and Dana have all spilled about theirs, so now it's your turn!"

Sarah gave the faces around her a long, hard, look. There was no getting out of this.

"Well, what sort of story would you like to hear?" she asked, resigned.

The crowd went 'ooh' and 'ah!'

"Well," said the woman who had first spoken, "You pull a word out of this hat here, and that's your keyword!"

The gaggle watched with wide eyes and flashing teeth as Sarah nonchalantly dug around in the hat and picked out a slip.

"Dancing," she read aloud.

A series of mutters.

"Well, do all of you know how we met?" Sarah asked brightly.

This piqued the crowd's interest considerably.

"Well, it was a lonely evening, and..."

Jareth moaned and slid further down his chair, hoping to disappear entirely under the tablecloth.

**xxx**

"Jareth," whispered Sarah, "I just saw someone pull a giant flask from under her dress, pour its contents into a teacup, stick it back, and then continue on with her conversation with your grandmother."

"So?" asked Jareth, picking up yet another wine bottle, reading the label, and putting it down, "A good two thirds of everyone here is at least a little bit drunk."

"She looked thirteen."

"Did she have glasses? Round face? White dress?"

"Yes."

"That's Fae. She's well over the drinking age, I assure you."

"Damn. What is it with your family and your genetics?!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad, the girl's eighteen."

Sarah slapped him upside the head.

"What was that for?!"

"For your family forgetting which side of the pond they're on! The legal age here is twenty one!"

Jareth sighed and looped an arm around Sarah's waist, "Precious, how old were you when you started drinking?"

"That's irrelevant."

"Come on."

"Twenty one."

"You're lying."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am- Fine. Seventeen."

"See?"

"In my defense, I am not a good role model!"

"Oh, please. What did you do? Stay out past your curfew?"

Sarah kept silent.

"...I'm getting the feeling I'd rather not know."

**xxx**

About halfway through lunch (which lasted about least three hours), Jareth had slipped away to somewhere else and Sarah was left to the mercy of the Kings. Figuring that the only way to get away from this was to quietly sit in a corner and pretend to eat, she decided to do just that. Unfortunately, every corner was occupied by someone with a similar idea. She looked around for what seemed like the lesser of the evils and settled on a passive looking man tucking away into a chicken leg. Even hunched over, he looked incredibly tall, with silvering dark hair and sleepy, gray, eyes.

Sarah quietly skulked over to him, pointed to the chair closest, and said, "Is this seat taken?"

The man shook his head.

"May I sit there?"

He nodded.

And Sarah sat. Well, they both sat in a friendly sort of silence until the man finished his chicken.

"I'm Ron," the man said in a mellow voice with a stereotypically European sort of accent.

"Sarah."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

They sat in silence for a while longer.

"The chicken's good."

"Yeah? I've mostly been stuck with potatoes."

"Do you want some chicken?"

"I'm good, thanks."

A pause.

"Sorry. I'm sure the chicken's great and all..."

"It's fine. Let's pretend we're talking so no one else tries to join in."

"That's a solid plan."

"I like you."

"Likewise. Do you know how to play Cat's Cradle?"

"No."

"Do you want to learn?"

"Sure."

It was a short while longer before Jareth returned and stood there for a while, looking horrified.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"What?" asked Sarah, looking up from the string tied around her fingers.

"Hello Jareth," said Ron pleasantly, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm just here for Sarah..." Jareth said, looking a bit awkward.

"Never time for the old man, eh?" Ron asked.

"You're..." stuttered Sarah, "You're Jareth's dad?"

"So say the paternity tests," Ron said mildly.

If not for the clamor of other relatives, it would have been dead silent.

"I'm joking," said Ron, "Jareth, your mother's wearing off on me."

"That's too bad."

"Really?"

"Really. Mother's insane."

"Even I know that," muttered Sarah, trying to move the string from one finger to another.

"Sit down, Jareth," said Ron, "We're playing Cat's Cradle."

"Ok," said Jareth, obediently sitting down between Sarah and his father, "What form are you on?"

"I'll start you off on the easiest," said Sarah.

Jareth snorted, "I've been playing this since before you were born!"

"Oh, the memories you must have from when you were three! I've been playing this for ten minutes. Five bucks says I'm still better than you."

"You're on."

Ron smiled serenely and sat back, watching the two bicker as lunch came to an end.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
_Jareth's dad seems to be the one sane person in this whole place.  
Up next, babysitting!_

By the way, if anyone is hoping for some sort of update schedule, there isn't one. Reviews are a really great motivation for finishing chapters, though, because there's physical evidence of people liking this shit. So, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, liked, followed this story. You guys are, for better or for worse, what keeps it going! Pat yourselves on the back. No, really. Do it. You're great. I love you.


	20. FD: Sympathetic Villain

Sarah had never heard that high pitched of a scream coming from a full grown man, or anyone else for that matter. She sighed, shifted the small child she was holding to her hip.

"Jareth," Sarah called, "Come down from that tree."

"Make me," came the sulky response.

"Yeah," whined a child's voice, "Make us!"

Sarah muttered something not quite nice to herself and glared at the small hoard up in the the tree. There were six of them in all, if you were to count Jareth. Three little boys and two little girls sprawled out on the bottom branches, with Jareth regally perched close to the top, looking down his nose at the blond brats beneath him.

The family resemblance was strikingly obvious, and Sarah guessed that they were from his mother's side. All had pale hair and pale eyes, but lacked the ethereal effect that Jareth and his mother could produce with a slight change of posture and a glint of an eye. The kids, however, were all tanned, ruddy, and stout, but when they giggled down their pointy little noses, they could have been the spit image of Jareth. And they all followed him like he was the Messiah.

The girl at Sarah's hip was one of the four that hadn't followed the stripper up the tree, but only because she was too young to follow. She was darker in coloring, with curly black hair, brown skin, and bright black eyes, probably from Ron's side. The other three were crowding around her feet, all around two to five years old.

"Jawed!" the little girl cried, stretching her pudgy little hands out towards Jareth.

Sarah felt like banging her head against a wall in hopes of remembering anybody's name.

"If you're going to stay up there, at least tell me who these children belong to!" yelled Sarah, "Because if you're not babysitting, neither am I!"

"I _am_ babysitting!" said Jareth.

"You're not babysitting, you're fu- You're dicking around!"

"Yes, Sarah, because that word is better than the other you were about to say."

A little girl tugged at Sarah's pant leg, "What does 'dicking' mean?"

"It's a word you only say to very bad people," said Sarah.

"Is Jareth a bad person?"

"Well, he's been very bad."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No," said Sarah, "Good people sometimes do bad things and bad people sometimes to good things."

"Which one's Jareth?"

"He's..." Sarah evened Jareth with a murderous look, "He's a bad man."

"Sarah!"

"And for every minute that he spends up there, I am going to teach you a bad word for men like him."

Jareth let out a growl, but stayed put.

"Ok, kids. Listen up!" Sarah said, sitting down.

The children crowded around her, practically glowing with excitement.

"Now, repeat after me. The first word is a-"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" yelled Jareth before Sarah could finish her sentence, "Jesus Christ, woman! Kids, come on."

"Noo!" whined one of the children, "I wanna know!"

"And you'll find out in due time," said the man, reaching the bottom branch and jumping down.

Sarah gave a small smile and stood up, handing the little girl over to Jareth.

"Jawed, is it true that you're bad?"

"Well, Addy," said Jareth, lifting the girl high in the air, "I just might be."

"I don't like bad people."

Sarah bit her lip to contain a grin.

Jareth gave her a sidelong glance.

"You could have at least called me a sympathetic villain," he said, "It has a better ring to it."

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
_I think that after this, it's time for Sarah to officially have to deal with both of Jareth's parents and his aunt. That should be fun._


	21. FD: Interrogation

After a couple of hours in the mess, Sarah was certain that the only thing more awkward than your own family dinners were other people's family dinners. And not only awkward, but terrifying.

"So, Sarah," said Jareth's mother, pleasantly enough.

Sarah smiled professionally and scooted closer to Jareth until she was practically on his lap. Safety in numbers and all.

"Yes, Tina?"

"Oh, don't be so formal," said the pale woman with a wave of a hand, "Call me mother!"

"Alright, Tina."

Ron laughed softly, earning himself a glare from his wife.

"There's no winning with some people," the man said, giving his wife a pointed look.

This prompted a flurry of words from Tina and quiet rebuffs from her husband. The argument grew more and more heated, and before Sarah knew it, Ron was the one with his voice raised and Tina was the one smirking with a bit too much self satisfaction.

"Mother, father," said Jareth eventually, yawning, "How about you two stop flirting get back to your scheduled interrogation. It's getting late, and the children are a force to be reckoned with."

The married couple fell silent, looking rather sheepish.

"What? Would you like me to get out your list of threatening questions?" asked Jareth mockingly.

"I think they've got it," said Sarah mildly, leaning over to put her head on Jareth's shoulder, "Or would you like a minute to go over your notes?"

Tina smiled a serpent's smile, "So, Sarah, where is it that you work?"

"Jumping right into the deep end, mother?" muttered Jareth.

Sarah elbowed him in the side. To Tina, she said, "I'm an actress. The show I'm working on is currently a bit behind schedule, but I'm looking into auditioning for one or two others on all of these down days."

"And what's your day job?"

"That is my day job," said Sarah, smiling tightly, "And I'm good at it."

"We don't doubt that," said Ron quickly, "I'm sorry. Rudeness runs in her side of the family. Now, how did you say you met Jareth? At his... night job?"

"Yeah," Sarah shrugged, "Hoggle introduced us, you could say."

"Hoggle?" Tina's face brightened in much the same way that a funeral pyre blazes up, "He willingly introduced you to my son?"

"Not willingly," said Jareth, "More like-"

"Hush, child," said Tina imperiously, "Let Sarah answer."

Sarah and Jareth exchanged a look. Like the mature, responsible, adults that they were, they'd had their story straight for a while now.

"More like he told me to stay away from Jareth," continued Sarah, "And then the two of us met by accident. Sharing a mutual friend, and I'm using that term loosely, we struck up a conversation."

"And it was you that offered him a ride home?" asked Ron.

"I was doing some character study that day," said Sarah, "We'd known each other for a bit, gone on one or two dates, and it seemed like the good thing to do. It was then that we figured out we live in the same building."

"So you're neighbors?" asked Ron.

"I told you we were," said Jareth.

"Yes, dear, but we assumed you were lying," said his mother sweetly.

"That's a pretty fair assumption," smiled Sarah.

"Does no one in this room trust me?" asked Jareth, dramatically throwing his hand over his heart.

"No," said Sarah and Tina simultaneously. Ron shrugged.

Jareth gave the two women a look of true horror, "You two aren't going to be getting along all of a sudden, aren't you?"

"I certainly hope so," said Tina primly, "If she's going to be around for a while."

Sarah grinned, nodding slightly.

"I swear, if you two were children, you'd be fist bumping," Jareth muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The two women exchanged a look. Tina held out a fist. Sarah did the same. Their hands collided. Jareth looked physically pained.

"You know, that's the first time that I've seen you getting along with one of your... people," said Ron.

"She liked some of them!"

"Just the Jenkins boy," said Tina, "I like people who are on my level of... How should I put this?"

"Bitchiness?" asked Sarah thoughtfully.

The pale woman snapped her fingers, "Exactly!"

"You know most people would take that as an insult?" asked Jareth.

"I have no idea why," shrugged Tina, "I'm confident, I'm in charge, and I get what I want. If that's the word I have to use to describe it, so be it."

Sarah let out a laugh, relaxing visibly. Perhaps other people's families weren't that bad.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Oh man, I know I should be updating more often, and I do have a bunch of ideas, it's just it's been a rather stressful time. School's almost over, I've had chicken pox for two and a half weeks, and there's so much make up work I have to do now! Plus I've started an original work of my own, and oh my god there's just a lot going on. Give me three more weeks, and I'm sure I'll have chapters pouring in at a faster rate. I'll try to get another one or two in next week.  
Meanwhile, would you just take a look at Tina and Ron's failed good cop/bad cop routine. I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't worth the wait, I just typed it up in like twenty minutes because I felt bad for not updating. I'll try for something more exciting next time._


End file.
